I 


ENRY  WALLACE  PHILLIPS 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 


Jimmie  escorted  her,  carrying  her  basket.     Page  20 


TR  OLLE  Y  POLL  Y 


BY 
HENRY  WALLACE  PHILLIPS 

Author  of 

RED  SAUNDERS 
THE  MASCOT  OF  SWEET  BRIAR  GULCH 


Illustrated 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1909 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


MARCH 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


gf  5142046 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

I  TROLLEY  FOLLY i 

II   THE  NUMISMATIST 32 

III  THE  MASCOT  OF  THE  GRAYS 61 

IV  THE  LITTLE  CANOE 90 

V  THE  REVERSE  OF  A  MEDAL 104 

VI  TEN  MINUTES  OF  ETERNITY  .....  126 

VII  THE  PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME        .       .       .  135 

VIII   CAMP  CUNNINGHAM 165 

IX    HOHANKTON,  PfiTTIE  AND  OTHERS           .           .          .  IQI 

X   THE  FATAL  GUM 214 

XI   BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS      ....  238 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

JIMMIE  HORGAN'S  FORETASTE  OF 
FORTUNE 

TT  was  a  splendid  office — mahogany,  plate- 
•*•  glass  windows  and  all  that  pertains  to  the 
uninteresting  side  of  respectability.  There 
was  a  lawyer  there,  sitting  before  his  desk — a 
crisp,  gray  sort  of  lawyer,  who  looked  as  if 
when  you  patted  him  gently  he  would  snap 
a  finger  off.  One  Jimmie  Horgan  was  also 
there. 

Now,  Jimmie  was  a  careless  youth,  and  a 
cheerful  habit  of  sending  people  scattering, 
acquired  by  managing  the  controller  in  the 
employment  of  the  Suburban  Trolley  Com- 
pany, gave  him  what  might  be  called  a  cy- 
nicobenevolent  view  of  life.  He  had  learned 

1 


TROLLEY  FOLLY. 

that  the  human  body  was  an  unreliable  vessel 
to  hold  so  great  a  thing  as  a  soul. 

One  bunt  from  his  trusty  car,  and  the  great- 
est alderman  who  ever  received  boodle  for 
that  same  franchise  promptly  departed  for 
Heaven,  or  its  suburban  districts. 

He  had  made  the  proud  to  skip  ahead; 
ladies,  that  one  would  not  suspect  of  either 
agility  or  pliability,  had  made  creditable  run- 
ning-long-jumps merely  because  Jimmie  did 
not  twist  the  brake.  Bankers,  plutocrats 
and  plumbers  instantly  dropped  their  accus- 
tomed airs  of  superiority  and  hiked  out-of- 
that  when  Jimmie's  foot  trod  the  gong.  This 
showed  him  clearly  that  at  heart  all  men  were 
simple.  The  airs  assumed  were  but  a  mask, 
concealing  a  real  desire  to  please. 

Jimmie  may  have  belonged  to  one  of  the 
first  families  of  Ireland,  but  his  estate  had 
fallen  low — so  low,  in  fact,  that  he  held  in 
his  hand  the  incredible,  and  now,  away  from 

2 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

his  platform  of  authority,  he  needs  must  tell 
the  intrenched  lawyer-man  a  strange  tale. 

Strong  of  heart  was  Jimmie.     He  rallied. 

"Your  name  Simmonds?"  he  asked,  with  a 
grimy  thumb  indicating  the  signature  on  the 
letter  he  extended  for  the  lawyer's  inspection. 

"Yes,  sir,"  barked  the  lawyer  with  severity. 

"Who  gave  you  that  name?"  inquired  Jim- 
mie in  a  spirit  of  levity. 

"What  is  that?"  returned  the  lawyer. 

Jimmie  recalled  himself  to  his  position. 
"Oh,"  said  he,  "I  want  to  know  whether  this 
thing  is  a  fake  or  not." 

The  lawyer  extended  a  hand  like  a  rat- 
trap,  and  snapped  the  letter  toward  him. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  said  with  decision. 
"Certainly  not.  You  have  been  left,  through 
his  dying  intestate,  by  your  maternal  uncle, 
the  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars,  as  I  have 
acquainted  you  in  this  letter." 

The  lawyer  coughed  the  cough  of  conse- 
3 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

quence.  "This  amount  is  in  my  care;  in  fact, 
it  is  deposited  in  my  bank,  awaiting  your  or- 
ders." 

Jimmie  leaned  heavily  on  the  office-boy  to 
support  himself. 

"You  don't  look  it,"  he  said  to  the  lawyer, 
"but  are  you  addicted  to  the  use  and  abuse 
of  strong  things  of  any  kind?" 

"Sir I"  said  the  lawyer. 

"I  slipped  my  trolley,"  said  Jimmie.  "I 
didn't  know  I  had  any  maternal  uncle. 
I  didn't  know  he  had  five  thousand  dollars.  I 
don't  know  where  he  got  it,  and  I  don't  know 
where  I  am,  nor  why  you  are  here,  nor  any- 
thing else."  He  roused  himself.  "Say," 
said  he,  "if  you  ain't  got  me  down  here  to  en- 
joy my  looks,  produce." 

"Hey?"  said  the  lawyer. 

"Yes,"  said  Jimmie,  "just  that.  Hay; 
make  it  while  the  sun  shines.  Clear  weather 
to-day.  I  don't  savvy  this  thing,  up  nor 

4 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

down.  You  let  me  have  two  hundred  dollars, 
and  it  will  look  like  business.  All  I  want  to 
do  is  to  feel  it.  I  have  been  trying  to  feel 
two  hundred  dollars  for  three  years,  and  the 
nearest  I  have  got  to  it  is  on  the  instalment 
plan." 

The  lawyer  pushed  him  a  book. 

"Make  out  a  check,"  said  he. 

Jimmie  swallowed  all  the  air  in  the  room, 
but  yet  made  out  the  check. 

The  lawyer  looked  at  the  check  in  the  most 
detached  fashion,  called  a  man  and  handed 
him  the  slip  of  paper.  The  man  seemed 
weary.  He  took  the  piece  of  paper,  walked 
toward  an  actual  safe,  opened  a  drawer  with 
a  real  key  and  pulled  out  from  its  secret  hid- 
ing-place a  bunch,  or,  as  it  seemed  to  Jimmie, 
a  whole  head,  of  that  tender,  crisp,  succulent 
plant,  the  long  green. 

With  a  wet  thumb  the  weary  man  shredded 
off  a  certain  number  of  leaves,  and,  showing 

5 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

disgust  of  life  in  every  feature,  placed  them 
on  the  lawyer's  desk.  The  lawyer  eyed 
them  glumly,  wrapped  them  up  with  a  prac- 
tised hand,  and  shoved  them  to  Jimmie. 

"There  you  are,  sir,"  he  said.  "Anything 
else?" 

"No,"  said  Jimmie  dreamily.  "No,  noth- 
ing else." 

He  turned  away,  bumped  into  the  partition, 
begged  its  pardon  most  humbly;  walked  into 
a  young  woman  who  was  approaching  with  a 
basketful  of  letters;  distributed  wisdom  all 
over  the  office;  got  spoken  to  plainly;  tried 
to  help  the  young  woman  collect  the  flying 
sheets,  and  got  spoken  to  still  more  sharply; 
slid  down  the  first  four  steps  outside,  landed 
in  the  street  in  some  fashion,  and  then  gal- 
loped toward  a  sign  indicative  of  a  life-saving 
station. 

After  safely  embarking  on  a  schooner  he 
retired  to  a  corner  and  examined  the  ten 


rA  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

promises  of  our  government  for  twenty  dol- 
lars per  promise,  at  leisure.  They  were  so. 
Boldly  he  slapped  one  upon  the  bar.  Doubt- 
fully the  barkeeper  opened  his  cash-drawer. 

"No  good,"  thought  Jimmie,  thinking  this 
an  act  of  suspicion.  But  it  was  not. 

"Say,  young  feller,"  said  the  barkeeper, 
"it's  pretty  early  in  the  day  to  clean  me  out 
of  change.  Ain't  you  got  nothing  smaller 
than  that?" 

From  its  lonesome  abiding-place  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  pocket  filled  with  tobacco-dust, 
Jimmie  fished  out  a  quarter — that  one  piece 
of  Mr.  Bryan's  philosophy  which  he  had  im- 
agined to  be  all  that  stood  between  him  and 
a  joyless  wait  for  pay-day. 

"All  right,"  said  he. 

This  proof  that  it  was  inability  and  not  con- 
tempt that  had  shown  in  the  barkeeper's  eyes 
burned  in  James'  heart  like  a  little  flame. 
He  took  out  one  twenty-dollar  bill  and  put  it 

7 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

in   a   separate   pocket.    Twenty    dollars    he 
could  understand. 

He  then  made  for  the  barns,  wondering 
what  man  it  was  whose  legs  carried  him  so 
jauntily. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  great  mys- 
tery— the  disappearance  of  Car  809. 

How  so  large  and  eminently  practical  a 
thing  as  a  trolley  car — a  thing  so  blatantly 
modern  and,  withal,  so  hard  and  heavy — 
could  vanish  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and 
leave  neither  track  nor  rack  behind,  was  a 
problem  that  caused  silver  threads  to  appear 
amid  the  gold  and  bald  spots  of  the  officers 
of  the  Suburban  Trolley  Company. 

With  it  went  the  motorman  and  conductor; 
gone;  vanished;  vamoosed;  dissipated  into 
thin  air. 

The  thing  was,  and  then  it  was  not.  That 
is  all  they  ever  knew  about  it.  The  facts  are 
these : 

8 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

When  James  arrived  in  the  yard  he  ap- 
proached his  running-mate  and  poked  him  in 
the  chest  with  a  dramatic  forefinger.  The 
running-mate  looked  at  the  forefinger  and 
then  at  James. 

"Changed  your  spots  again?"  he  inquired. 

"Nup,"  said  James,  hitting  himself  might- 
ily upon  the  chest.  "Here  is  Willie  Wally 
Astor,  and  that's  me." 

"Grounded  again?"  sniffed  the  conductor. 
"Where  do  you  feel  it  worst?" 

"There  ain't  any  worst,"  said  Jimmie. 
"You  come  here !" — and  he  seized  him  by  the 
collar. 

"Leggo!"  said  the  conductor,  but  at  'the 
same  time  permitting  himself  to  be  jammed 
into  a  corner  while  the  golden  tale  of  sudden 
wealth  was  poured  into  his  ears. 

"Ah,  g'wan!" — but  the  tones  grew  weaker 
and  weaker,  and  when  Jimmie  produced  his 
little  pamphlet  on  high  finance,  printed  in 

9 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

green — proof  to  any  eye — the  conductor  fell 
upon  his  neck. 

"I  allus  knew  you  was  the  kind  of  a  little 
bird  that  could  fly  if  you  drew  them  feet  off 
the  ground,"  he  said.  "Call  the  turn." 

"We  have  got  fifteen  minutes,"  said  Jim- 
mie.  "Here  we  go  fresh  across  the  street  to 
celebrate." 

At  this  period  the  minds  of  both  these 
worthy  men  were  clear  and  free  from  any 
further  operation  than  that  natural  to  taking 
a  drink,  but  after  that  first  drink,  and  with  the 
confidence,  bred  of  another,  to  believe  in  that 
money,  James'  mind  extended  itself.  He 
pounded  the  bar  with  his  fist. 

"I  am  dead  sick  and  tired  of  going  over  the 
same  old  streets,"  said  he.  "It  occurs  to  me 
at  times  that  I'll  have  to  turn  off  som'ers,  or 
bust." 

"Yep,"  assented  the  conductor;  "that's 
right,  too.  All  the  time  the  same  streets;  all 

10 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

the  time  the  same  old  dog  that  comes  just  so 
near  getting  pinched;  all  the  time  the  same 
fat  man  waving  his  umbrell';  all  the  time  the 
same  Dagoes  with  gunnysacks  filled  with 
something,  and  smelling  with  a  strong  Ital- 
ian accent;  all  the  time  the  same  war  over 
that  transfer,  after  that  same  young  lady  has 
traveled  half  a  mile  beyond  where  she  ought 
to  have  got  off.  If  I  had  another  drink  I 
could  feel  very  bad  about  this." 

"Let's,"  said  Jimmie.  So  the  conductor 
felt  very  bad  about  it,  and  Jimmie,  like  the 
good  friend  he  was,  felt  worse. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  he,  "I  just  naturally  will 
have  to  turn  off  som'ers,  or  I  surely  will 
bust." 

There  gleamed  a  radiance  from  the  crisp 
array  before  the  mirror.  Genius  had  hit 
Jimmie — hypnotic. 

"Say,  Tommie,"  said  he,  "we  will  turn  off 
som'ers.  If  you'll  go  me  on  it  we'll  take  the 

11 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

old  ambulance  clear  to  the  end  of  everything 
in  sight  this  morning.  There  is  more  than 
forty  thousand  switches  we'd  oughter  took 
long  ago,  and  they  can't  stop  us.  If  we  get 
our  jobs  excused  away  from  us  we  c'n  lean  up 
against  that  five  thousand  until  we  are  rested. 
Come  along,"  said  he,  inspiration  working. 
"Come  on,  old  man!" 

"Say,"  said  the  conductor,  "I've  got  you 
faded.  I  don't  care  if  I  never  work  again, 
and  as  for  jerking  a  piece  of  common  clothes- 
line every  time  a  person  with  a  mind  to  shoves 
one  small  nickel  into  my  hand,  why,  I  am 
really  tired  of  it.  I  have  had  idees  of  a  no- 
bler life  than  this,  Jimmie.  They  usually 
come  after  the  sixth  round,  but  when  I  think 
of  that  five  thousand — "  He  stopped  ab- 
ruptly. 

They  grabbed  each  other  and  made  for  the 
yard. 

12 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Come  on,  you  fellers!"  yelled  die  starter. 
"Get  a  wiggle  on.  Youse  are  due  now." 

"Comin',  uncle!"  said  Jimmie,  in  a  sharp 
falsetto. 

"Slowly  comin' !"  boomed  the  conductor. 

"Ain't  you  got  a  gayness,  though?"  said  the 
starter. 

The  motorman  elaborately  placed  one  sil- 
ver dollar  in  the  hands  of  the  starter  and 
closed  the  latter's  ringers  upon  it. 

"Keep  this,"  he  said,  from  many  years'  ex- 
perience of  viewing  the  hero  leaving  the  lady 
of  his  choice  with  a  sob  in  the  orchestra. 
"Keep  this,"  he  repeated  waveringly,  quav- 
eringly  and  tenderly.  "Do  the  same  by  your- 
self. This  is  a  sooveniret  of  something  you 
never  heard  of  before." 

The  starter  looked  startled.  "Well!"  said 
he.  It  was  the  only  word  in  the  English  lan- 
guage that  could  express  his  feelings. 

13 


TROLLEY  FOLLY. 

"Well!"  he  said.  He  looked  at  the  dollar, 
and  in  the  tone  of  a  man  bewitched  he  cried, 
"Give  him  the  bell,  Tommiel  You're  off!" 

Tommie  pulled  the  strap.  "Adool  Fare 
thee  well.  Good-by.  Ready!"  he  called. 
"If  we  don't  see  you  again,  hello!" 

The  starter  waved  his  hand.  The  starter 
shook  his  head. 

Car  809  droned  merrily  along  the  track  un- 
til she  came  to  the  first  switch.  "Give  us  the 
High  Bush  Line,  Jerry,"  said  James. 

The  melancholy  man  jabbed  his  iron  into 
the  track.  High  Bush,  North  Pole,  Heaven 
or  Hades,  it  was  all  one  to  him. 

"Come  along,"  he  growled,  and  they  came. 

"Hey,  there!  Hey!"  cried  an  excitable  old 
gentleman,  as  the  car  shot  up  the  side-street 
switch.  "I  thought  this  car  went  through 
Lethe  Street." 

"It  used  to,"  answered  Tommie  soothingly, 
"but  it  has  got  weary  of  it — plumb  tired  out." 

14 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Tired?"  cried  the  old  gentleman  blankly. 
"Here,  let  me  out!"  he  concluded  with  en- 
ergy. 

He  stood  on  the  crossing  until  a  brewery- 
wagon  was  driven  against  him. 

"Lunatics — not  a  doubt  of  it,"  he  said  to 
himself,  as  he  hopped  to  the  sidewalk.  There 
he  waited,  but  in  vain,  for  no  other  car  would 
be  sent  forth  until  809  passed  a  certain  turn- 
out, which  she  had  not  the  least  intention  of 
approaching  this  day. 

And  that  ruptured  the  schedule. 

A  sour-faced  young  man  with  a  fighting  jaw 
approached  the  car  a  few  blocks  farther  on. 

"Say!  Do  youse  go  through  Scrabble- 
grass  Avenoo?"  he  asked  in  a  voice  like  a 
curse. 

"Now,  that  depends,"  answered  the  blithe 
Thomas.  "If  we  want  to,  we  will;  if  we 
don't,  we  won't.  D'yer  feel  like  making  it 
an  object  to  us?" 

15 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

The  sour-faced  young  man  backed  up  a 
step. 

"Say,  you  are  a  pretty  fresh  duck,  ain't 
you?"  he  sneered.  He  quickly  put  on  his 
most  ferocious  look.  "Now,  you  listen  to 
the  toot  of  my  little  naughtyobilious  horn," 
said  he;  "and  if  you  don't  I'll  mix  you  up 
with  the  machinery.  I  want  to  go  to  Scrab- 
blegrass  Avenoo.  D'yer  get  that?  The 
quicker  I  get  there,  the  better.  D'yer  get 
that?"  He  pushed  his  bulldog  jaw  into 
Thomas'  face. 

"Shoo,  fly!"  said  Thomas,  making  a  light 
pass  with  his  hand  which  caused  a  noisy  rustle 
in  the  aftermath  that  grew  upon  the  other 
man's  extensive  face. 

"Sure!"  he  continued.  "Sure.  I  get  all 
these  things,  of  course."  He  stopped  the  car. 
He  took  the  fighting- jawed  man  by  the 
shoulder  and  pointed  his  finger  at  an  angle  of 

16 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

thirty-five  degrees  to  the  perpendicular  and 
at  right  angles  to  the  car  track. 

"There  is  Scrabblegrass  Avenoo,  right  over 
yonder,"  he  said.     "Jump!" 

Sometimes  a  fighting  jaw  merely  implies  a 
fighting  character:  it  doesn't  insist  upon  it. 

"D'yer  mean  I  have  got  to  walk?"  asked  the 
sour-faced  man. 

"Sure  thing,"  said  Tommie,  "or  else  you'd 
like  to  have  me  kick  you  half-way  there?" 

"Say,  what's  got  into  you  this  mornin'?" 
gasped  the  stranger. 

It  was  Tommie's  turn  to  scoff.  He  reached 
for  the  strap,  smiling  derisively. 

"You  ought  to  read  the  papers,"  said  he; 
"then  you  wouldn't  act  like  such  a  lobster. 
Things  ain't  run  like  they  used  to  be,  my 
friend;  me  and  my  partner  has  bought  this 
car,  and  we're  running  it  around,  getting  cus- 
tom where  we  can." 

17 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

"Ain't  there  no  more  railroad  company?" 
said  the  lost  soul  confronting  him. 

"Nope,"  answered  Tommie  with  a  yawn. 
"The  hull  trolley  business  is  in  the  hands  of 
private  parties  like  us — and  we're  losing 
money  on  you  by  the  second.  Skip !" 

From  this  on,  809  developed  more  eccen- 
tricities of  character.  Sometimes  she  stopped 
for  passengers  like  a  perfectly  normal  trolley 
car,  but  if  Jimmie  did  not  like  the  looks  of 
people  as  they  drew  near  she  bounded  ahead 
like  an  antelope,  when  the  foot  of  habit 
was  reaching  for  her  step.  Then,  at  a  place 
of  pleasant  greenery,  refreshing  to  the  city 
eye,  she  often  moved  up  and  down  the  block 
several  times  while  her  managers  enjoyed  the 
change  of  scene.  This  attracted  some  atten- 
tion. 

They  always  slowed  the  car  fully  to  explain 
to  the  out-landers  the  strange,  new  conditions 
existing  in  the  trolley  world. 

18 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

The  passengers  made  no  complaint.  It  is 
so  much  the  custom  for  the  free  American  to 
accept  almost  anything  in  uniform  as  a  part 
of  Nature,  and  a  Nature  that  grows  violent 
on  provocation,  that  the  half-dozen  offspring 
of  the  eagle  perched  mildly  upon  their  seats 
without  complaint. 

Perhaps  they  liked  it.  One  stout  and  jolly 
old  gentleman  enjoyed  the  discourse  immense- 
ly, even  joining  in  the  spread  of  misinforma- 
tion. 

A  pallid  little  woman,  with  a  very  large 
baby,  timidly  accosted  Jimmie.  She  wanted 
to  go  to  a  certain  place  at  least  five  miles  dis- 
tant, on  a  branch  line. 

Jimmie  appealed  to  the  chivalry  of  the  pas- 
sengers. 

"We  have  got  your  nickels,"  said  he,  "but 
this  here  lady  has  been  misled.  We  feel  as 
if  we  oughter  take  her  where  she  belongs. 
No  objections?" 

19 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

The  passengers  looked  at  each  other  and 
said  nothing. 

"Let  her  fly,  Jimmie.  We  have  got  to 
make  that  five  miles  in  six  minutes  to  keep  up 
with  our  idee  of  things,"  said  Tommie. 

They  arrived  at  the  street,  but  the  little 
woman's  destination  was  several  blocks  from 
the  trolley  track.  Jimmie  escorted  her,  car- 
rying her  basket,  while  the  stout  old  gentle- 
man, saying  that  he  would  like  to  stretch  his 
legs,  carried  the  baby. 

In  the  meantime,  the  car  that  really  be- 
longed on  that  track  came  from  the  opposite 
direction.  I  will  not  repeat  what  that  mo- 
torman  said.  There  is  a  sign  on  all  trolley 
cars,  "Don't  speak  to  the  motorman."  It  is  a 
good  piece  of  advice,  because  you  might  not 
like  what  the  motorman  would  say  to  you  in 
reply. 

He  waved  his  hands  and  told  809  to  get  on 
about  its  business.  He  wanted  to  know  why 

20 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

she  was  there,  in  a  tone  that  made  the  fourth- 
story  windows  fly  open. 

"What  d'yer  mean  by  sitting  there  like  a 
toad  in  a  rain-storm,  holding  us  up  when 
we're  twenty  minutes  late  already?"  he  fin- 
ished. 

Tommie  spread  his  hands  with  a  gesture  of 
deprecation. 

"Orders,"  he  replied  in  explanation.  "I 
can't  help  it." 

"Orders?"  said  the  motorman.  "Orders? 
What  are  you  tin-plated  chumps  doing  in  this 
part  of  the  country,  anyhow?" 

Tommie  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  like  this,"  said  he :  "Old  Man  Rock- 
erfeller  has  come  to  call  on  an  old  woman 
that  used  to  cook  for  him,  and  the  company's 
give  him  the  rights  of  this  car — my  Mote's 
taking  him  around  to  the  house  now.  We've 
got  to  wait  till  he  comes  back,  and  you've  got 
to  wait,  too ;  that's  all." 

21 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

The  other  jumped  in  the  air  with  astonish- 
ment and  fury. 

"Well,  wouldn't  that  knock  the  frizzles  out 
of  your  hair?"  said  he.  "Those  old  devils 
can  have  anything  they  want,  no  matter  what 
breaks,  can't  they?" 

"That  is  just  about  the  size  of  it,  partner," 
said  Tommie;  "but  here  comes  Jimmie. 
We'll  spin  back  and  turn  out  for  you  below." 

"Thankee,  old  man,"  said  the  motorman; 
"much  obliged;  but  I  can  tell  you  one  thing: 
I  am  going  to  join  the  Ancient  and  Honorable 
Order  of  Amalgamated  Anarchists  this  night. 
You  bet!  Call  on  his  cook,  and  block  the 
whole  line!  Well—" 

This  affair  being  arranged,  809  grasped  the 
wire  with  her  trolley,  threw  off  her  brakes 
and  went  rushing  forward  to  her  fate. 

As  she  sped  down  Poolton  Avenue  a  party 
of  young  men,  with  long  hair,  ran  out  of  a 
cafe,  yelling  wildly.  Tommie  pulled  the  bell. 

22 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Stop  her,  Jimmie,"  he  said.  "They  look 
like  our  kind  of  people." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  the  panting 
youth  who  arrived  first. 

"Any  old  place,"  said  Tommie.  The  youth 
stopped. 

"Hey?"  said  he. 

"What's  that?"  said  Tommie. 

"Oh,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  only  wanted 
to  know  where  you  went  to." 

"Answer  same  as  before,"  said  Tommie. 
"Any  old  place.  We  have  broke  loose  from 
the  tediousness  of  this  darned  commercial 
life,  and  we  are  taking  in  the  United  States  to 
suit  ourselves." 

"Do  you  mean  that?"  earnestly  inquired  the 
young  man. 

"Try  us,"  said  Tommie.  "We're  only  a 
few," 

At  this  juncture,  all  former  passengers  de- 
scended from  the  car. 

23 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

"Yours  is  the  route  we  have  been  planning," 
said  the  long-haired  young  man. 

All  the  young  men  boarded  the  car,  sing- 
ing loudly  a  song  about  their  dear  old  some- 
thing or  other. 

Thomas  advanced  to  the  front  platform, 
and  809  gathered  herself  and  hit  the  irons 
per  record.  She  passed  would-be  passengers 
as  the  City  Council  passes  a  bill  for  more  sal- 
aries for  faithful  services.  She  was  a  gallant 
sight. 

Once  when  Jimmie  went  aft  to  tell  a  funny 
story  he  had  heard  the  night  before,  809  ram- 
med a  street-piano  with  such  insistence  and 
velocity  that  it  landed  on  top  of  a  load  of 
furniture,  still  playing  one  of  Sousa's  marches. 
The  Italian  burned  his  thumb  in  blazing  away 
at  the  departing  monster  with  an  eighty-nine- 
cent  revolver.  The  young  men  gathered  on 
the  back  platform  and  encouraged  him  to 
shoot  with  a  little  more  art. 

24 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

Three  blocks  away,  speeding  toward  them, 
there  came  a  red  thing,  coughing,  with  in- 
human rapidity.  There  were  four  things  in 
it  that  looked  like  Mr.  H.  G.  Wells'  inhabit- 
ants of  the  moon. 

"Here's  where  your  nice,  red,  hand-painted 
autymobile  either  takes  to  its  own  side  of  the 
road  or  to  the  trees  I"  shouted  Jimmie  back  to 
the  carload. 

The  young  men  swung  themselves  out  to 
see  the  sight.  The  road  was  narrow.  The 
approaching  bedevilment,  streaming  dust  at 
every  pore,  bestrode  (or,  better,  bewheeled) 
one  rail  of  the  track. 

"There  is  your  nice  little  bubble,"  chanted 
the  young  men.  "  'Bubble,  bubble,  toil  and 
trouble!'  Get  peevish  there,  Jimmie!  Hit 
her  on  the  end!" 

Tommie,  the  mild,  called  out,  "Just  one 
layer  of  varnish  off  will  do  the  trick,  Jimmie." 

Naturally,  the  man  at  the  wheel  of  that 
25 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

automobile  expected  the  trolley  car  to  stop. 
Had  it  been  an  ordinary  trolley  car,  at  the 
service  of  mere  citizens,  it  must  have  stopped, 
but  being  an  Independent  State  of  Modern 
Progress,  it  left  restraint  behind,  and  could 
be  seen  to  move  toward  that  automobile. 

"Shove,  you  shover!"  shouted  the  tallest  of 
the  young  men. 

It  was  high  time.  The  side  of  809  hit  the 
rear  tire  with  a  rubbery  shriek.  The  red  au- 
tomobile went  over  a  small  knoll  of  loose  stone 
and  bunch-grass,  to  the  left  of  the  road,  and 
disappeared  from  view. 

"They  can  get  her  back  again,  all  right 
enough,"  said  one  of  the  young  men  whose 
severe  face  suggested  the  mechanical  engi- 
neer. "Just  erect  a  capstan  on  top  of  the  hill, 
and  winch  her  right  back.  I  don't  know  how 
far  she  has  gone  down  the  other  side.  Wish 
I  had  asked  you  to  stop,  and  put  in  a  bid  for 
the  job." 

26 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Too  late,"  said  Tommie.  "There  is  a 
long  slant  ahead  of  us,  and  we're  really  going 
to  run." 

"I  could  die  trolleying!"  cooed  the  stout 
young  man.  "Hit  her  up  in  front!"  He 
clambered  over  the  seats  toward  the  front  of 
the  car. 

In  the  general  joy  and  enthusiasm  then 
prevailing  another  young  man  began  to  ring 
up  fares. 

"Hey!  What  yer  doin'?"  shouted  Tom- 
mie in  the  grip  of  habit.  Then  he  remem- 
bered. "Let  her  sizzle,"  said  he.  "No  harm 
done." 

The  register  rang.  The  signal  bell  rang. 
Both  gongs  rang.  It  was  somewhat  like  a 
party  of  Swiss  bell-ringers  tobogganing  down 
the  Matterhorn.  Untrained  horses  walked 
upon  their  hind  legs,  and  the  vox  populi  was 
hushed. 

The  fat  young  man  reached  the  front  plat- 
27 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

form.  He  was  not  only  fat.  He  was  also 
very  strong. 

"Here,  let  me  run  this  old  shebang?"  he 
asked  Jimmie.  "I  won't  kill  anybody." 

"Well,  we're  in  the  open  now,"  said  Jim- 
mie. "I  guess  you  can't  do  much  damage." 
So  he  gave  him  the  controller  and  joined  the 
vocalists. 

Minutes  passed  by  to  the  lilt  and  swing  of 
such  grand  old  classics  as  The  Bulldog  and 
the  Bullfrog,  and  the  rest  of  it,  with  xylo- 
phone accompaniment,  accomplished  by 
drawing  a  cane  across  the  rods  in  the  backs  of 
the  seats. 

Never  had  happiness  so  untrammeled  an 
occupancy.  Number  809  spread  her  long 
wheels  in  the  ecstasy  of  freedom.  Her  mo- 
tors purred.  She  passed  the  high  points  with 
loving  pats,  scarcely  touching  them.  Her  in- 
habitants were  carried  away. 

And  then,  like  a  handful  of  mud  upon  the 
28 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

merriment  fell  the  roar  of  the  man  at  the  con- 
troller. He  was  grinding  frantically  at  the 
brake.  The  huge  muscles  of  his  back  had 
split  his  coat  in  the  effort. 

The  party  got  up  and  saw  ahead  of  them  a 
sharp  incline,  ending  in  an  unprotected 
bridge. 

"Gee-rusalem!"  bawled  Jimmie  suddenly. 
"Wood's  Bridge — the  worst  in  the  country. 
I  forgot  it." 

At  that  instant  a  crack,  followed  by  the 
jingle  of  metal,  told  them  that  the  brake-chain 
was  broken.  The  car,  which  had  slacked  a 
little  of  its  speed,  leaped  forward  again. 

"Turn  off  your  power!  Reverse,  I  mean!" 
yelled  Jimmie. 

Then  came  a  thudding  sound  on  the  car's 
roof. 

"Oh,"  he  groaned,  "the  trolley's  off!" 

Near  that  bridge,  a  few  feet  from  the  side 
of  the  track,  there  was  a  long  haystack. 

29 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

"Farmers  to  the  front!"  said  Tommie. 
"Every  man  to  the  step,  and  jump !" 

In  a  twinkling  twelve  young  men  rolled 
along  a  haystack.  They  rolled  and  rolled. 
They  gathered  much  hay,  but,  still  dominant 
above  the  mischance,  the  souls  of  ten  foot-ball 
players  and  two  trolley  men  rose  triumphant. 
They  wanted  to  see  the  last  of  809. 

She  took  the  rest  of  the  grade  like  a  buck- 
ing bronco.  She  hit  the  bridge  like  an  ava- 
lanche. Something  gave  way,  or  held  too 
strongly,  for  809  sprang  into  the  air,  turned 
completely  over  and  went  down  in  thirty  feet 
of  dirty  water,  trucks  up,  with  a  tremendous 
splash. 

Silence  stared  with  stony  faces. 

"She's  gone,"  said  Tommie  solemnly. 

"Beyond  recall,"  assented  the  mechanical 
engineer. 

"And  I  am  going,  too,"  said  Tommie. 
30 


A  FORETASTE  OF  FORTUNE 

The  college  men  said  nothing,  but,  as  the 
thin  procession  topped  the  hill  two  miles 
away,  the  fat  man  led  by  twenty  yards. 


31 


II 

THE  NUMISMATIST 

POSSESSION  IS  NINE  POINTS  OF  THE  LAW, 
SELF-POSSESSION  THE  TENTH 

LECTION  day,  '96,  was  big  medicine  in 
Terrapin.  Miners  all  down  from  the 
upper  camps,  shoutin'  Free  Silver,  and  mo- 
rose about  John  Sherman.  All  the  cow-boys 
from  the  immediate  vicinity  were  in.  The  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  any  point  in  the  North- 
west is  a  good  big  scope  of  country — say  as  far 
as  two  men  can  ride  fast  in  as  many  days  as  it 
takes  to  get  there. 

In  Brown's  Bank  there  was  a  sound  of  dev- 
iltry by  night.  Them  back  from  the  bar 
couldn't  get  back.  A  damsel  with  a  dulcimer 
was  dispensin'  sweet  strains,  and  a  minority 
of  the  convention  thought  they  was  singing  to 
keep  her  from  feeling  conspicuous,  each  dele- 

82 


THE  NUMISMATIST 

gate  voting  for  a  different  tune.  The  toot  ong- 
som  was  calculated  to  make  an  escaped  lunatic 
homesick. 

In  the  middle  of  this  dispensation  I  comes 
in,  late.  I  endeavored  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  bar  creature  by  shouting  and  sign  talk, 
for  I  wanted  to  do  my  duty.  I  know  I 
yelled,  for  I  could  feel  my  jaw  waggle,  and 
my  breath  give  out — but  I  couldn't  hear  noth- 
in'.  No  one  would  take  my  money.  Some 
one  or  two  drinks  were  handed  to  me,  how- 
ever, a  handful  of  cigars  and  six  dollars 
change.  Them  Free  Silver  fellows  shore  be- 
lieved what  they  said. 

So  I  looked  around  in  search  of  distraction. 
Five  deep  they  stood  around  the  faro  and  rou- 
lette layouts.  Dealers  looked  like  a  Turkish 
bath  from  raking  in  money  and  shovin'  over 
chips.  One  fellow  at  the  faro  table  had 
more'n  six  bushel  of  checks  and  was  betting 
with  a  shovel. 

33 


TROLLEY  FOLLY. 

I  made  for  the  poker-rooms.  Both  locked. 
I  hammers.  "Shove  your  money  under  the 
door,"  yells  some  one  inside,  "and  go  away." 

Here  was  a  fine  how-de-do.  Six  months' 
wages  in  my  pocket  and  no  action  in  sight.  I 
went  out  in  front  to  hear  myself  think.  On 
the  porch  sat  a  man,  unostentatious,  hugging 
his  knee,  observing  of  the  moon. 

I  shoved  a  cigar  at  him.  He  nods,  sticks  it 
in  his  face,  and  hands  me  up  matches  over  his 
shoulder.  I  likes  his  looks. 

And  his  sayin'  nothing  sounded  good,  too, 
for  my  ear-drums  were  jarred  clear  to  my  an- 
kles. I  found  out  later  that  he  wasn't  always 
silent.  He  was  a  sort  of  human  layer-cake 
that  way — big  slabs  of  talk  and  thin  streaks  of 
keeping  still. 

He  didn't  look  quite  like  a  cow-boy.  Cow- 
boys' eyes  is  all  puckered  up  by  sun  and  wind. 
Nor  quite  like  a  miner.  His  hands  was  white 
but  they  wasn't  tin-horn's  hands,  not  by  no 

34 


THE  NUMISMATIST 

means.     He  wasn't  drunk,  and  I  couldn't  un- 
derstand him  at  all,  so  I  felt  around. 

"Stranger?"  says  I.     He  nods. 

"Miner?" 

"Once." 

"Cow-boy?" 

"Once.  Everything  else — once.  Just  now 
I  am  a  numismatist." 

I  set  down  by  him  to  show  that  didn't  make 
no  difference  to  me. 

"Is  it — very  bad?"  I  says,  kinder  solemn 
and  hushed-like. 

"A  collector  of  rare  coins,"  he  explains, 
laughing.  His  laugh  was  good,  too. 

"Oh — I  see.     Got  any  of  them  with  you?" 

"Just  one.  Be  careful  of  it,"  he  says,  and 
hands  it  to  me.  I  holds  it  up  to  the  light. 
'Twas  a  common  old  iron  dollar. 

"Broke?" 

He  straightened  up  indignantly.  "Not  on 
your  life — that's  no  counterfeit!"  he  says. 

35 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

I  liked  him.  I  felt  friendly.  My  experi- 
ence is  that  the  difference  between  the  friend 
that  can  help  you  but  won't  and  the  enemy  that 
would  hurt  you  but  can't  isn't  worth  notice. 
So  I  dug.  When  I  gave  his  dollar  back  I 
slid  five  yellow  twenties  with  it. 

He  looks  'em  over  carefully,  feeling  of 
them,  edges  and  both  sides,  with  his  finger- 
tips. "Very  interesting,"  he  says.  "Very 
beautiful.  How  clear  the  lettering  is !"  And 
he  hands  'em  back. 

"They're  yours,  Stranger,"  says  I.  "For 
your  collection." 

He  swells  up.  "Not  much.  I'd  beg  be- 
fore I'd  accept  charity." 

"You  don't  understand  me,"  I  says,  sparring 
for  time.  "I  meant  as  a  sporting  venture. 
I'm  superstitious.  Men  with  a  wad  always 
lose  it.  So  why  shouldn't  a  broke  man  win? 
Take  it  and  win  us  a  home." 

"Oh,  that's  different,"  says  Stranger. 
36 


THE   NUMISMATIST 

"I  accept  with  pleasure — the  more  so  as  I 
have  an  infallible  system  of  winning  at  roul- 
ette, founded  on  long  observation." 

"Yes?"  says  I,  beginning  to  feel  sorry  for 
my  hundred. 

"Yes.  I  have  observed  that,  if  you  play 
enough,  you  always  lose.  You  just  mathe- 
matically must.  The  percentage  is  a  scienti- 
fic certain-t-y-ty.  My  system  is  to  bet  high, 
win,  and  quit  before  you  begin  to  lose." 

"How  did  you  ever  study  it  out?"  says  I, 
beginning  to  be  glad  about  my  investment 
again.  "I  never  tried  that  way,  but  it  sounds 
promising." 

"Such  being  the  case,  I  got  a  hunch,"  says 
Stranger.  "Here  goes  for  a  gold  chain  or  a 
wooden  leg.  Take  my  hand  and  watch  me 
peer  into  the  future." 

We  wiggled  through  to  the  table  after  a 
while.  The  dealer  was  a  voluptuous  swell, 
accentuated  with  solid  gold  log  chains  and 

37 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

ruby  rings  where  convenient.  I  knew  him. 
He  wore  a  copyrighted  smile  losing,  and  a 
nasty  sneer  when  he  won.  An  overbearing 
man  and  opportune,  Frenchy,  addicted  to  kill- 
ing his  fellow-man  in  sheer  self-defense,  dur- 
ing the  absence  of  his  assailant's  friends. 
Such  was  his  unrefuted  statement,  the  dead 
gentlemen  having  never  given  their  testimony. 
He  had  been  so  fortunate  in  his  protections 
that  lots  of  folks  rarely  ever  went  out  of  their 
way  to  annoy  him. 

Stranger  began  hostilities  by  depositing  a 
twenty  on  the  black.  Red  ensued.  Another 
twenty  on  black.  Black  comes.  Frenchy 
shoved  over  a  ten,  and  Stranger  looked 
pained. 

"I  bet  twenty  dollars,"  he  said,  lifting  of  his 
brows. 

"Ten  dollars  is  the  limit  for  any  one  bet," 
snaps  Frenchy,  rolling  the  ball  again. 

38 


THE   NUMISMATIST 

"Don't  delay  the  game.  Bet  or  give  up  your 
place." 

"But  you  took  my  twenty."  He  stopped 
the  wheel.  "No  bets  this  whirl,"  says  Stran- 
ger. 

The  crowd  stopped  talking  and  side-step- 
ped for  an  alibi  in  case  the  gentleman  should 
engage  in  self-defense. 

Frenchy  bares  his  teeth  and  snarls.  "You 
lost.  I  got  the  mon.  Why  didn't  you  in- 
quire? You  orter  understand  a  game  before 
you  buck  it.  This  is  my  game  and  my  rules 
goes.  See?" 

"I  see,"  says  Stranger  quiet.  "Give  me  tens 
for  these  twenties,  please." 

Snickers  from  the  crowd.  Frenchy  had 
them  Buffaloed  to  a  standstill.  All  the  same, 
they  had  no  use  for  a  fellow  that  let  his  rights 
be  trampled  on  this  way.  And  yet  Stranger 
didn't  look  noways  like  a  man  of  patient  pro- 

39 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

clivities,  given  to  turning  the  other  cheek. 
Some  wise  ones  cashed  their  chips  when  they 
remarked  his  easy  smile. 

When  Frenchy  began  to  roll  again  we  had 
the  table  mostly  to  ourselves.  I  moves  over 
by  the  wheel  to  watch  the  lookout,  him  having 
a  game  eye  and  a  propensity  to  be  sole  witness 
for  Frenchy  when  his  life  was  attempted. 

"I  will  now  declare  myself  as  for  W.  J. 
Bryan,"  says  Stranger,  dropping  ten  each  on 
the  squares  marked  16,  2,  i. 

"Twenty-seven,  red,  odd  and  McKinley," 
drones  Frenchy,  and  scoops  our  thirty. 

Stranger  strings  thirty  more  on  16,  2,  i. 

"Nine,  black,  odd!  Great  Republican 
gains!" 

Frenchy's  singsong  was  plumb  exasperat- 
ing. 

Stranger  adorns  his  three  numbers  again 
with  his  last  thirty,  and,  as  an  afterthought, 
put  his  rare  old  iron  dollar  on  single  o. 

40 


THE   NUMISMATIST 

"Single  green,"  chants  Frenchy.  "Popul- 
ist, by  jingo!"  I  says,  as  Frenchy  rakes  the 
three  tens  and  pays  'em,  with  five  more  to  the 
green. 

Ten  each  on  16,  2,  i.  Then  he  planks  the 
six  on  double  green.  "I  hate  a  piker!"  he 
states.  And  oo  came. 

"Alfalfa,"  I  yells.     "Grangers  for  ever!" 

Things  was  looking  up  now,  but  Stranger 
was  noways  concerned.  "Six  thirty-fives  is 
two  hundred  and  ten — six  I  had  makes  two 
sixteen.  Hold  on  till  I  make  a  purty."  He 
bets  ten  straight  on  16,  ten  on  each  corner,  ten 
on  each  side.  Same  play  for  2,  and  a  lone  ten 
on  the  unit.  I  never  seen  a  board  look  so 
plumb  ridiculous. 

"Hope  springs  infernal  in  the  human 
breast.  Let  'er  go,  Hanna!"  he  says.  "A 
short  life  and  a  merry  one!" 

The  ball  spun  nearly  two  weeks.  "Sixteen, 
black  and  even,"  remarks  Frenchy. 

41 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

I  takes  a  swift  glance  at  the  wheel  then,  to 
corroborate  my  ears.  "And  Bryan,"  suggests 
Stranger. 

"Bryan!  Bryan!"  yells  the  crowd. 
Miners  and  cow-boys  is  Democrats  ex  officio, 
and  Frenchy's  surreptitious  habit  of  defend- 
ing himself  was  endearin'  Stranger  to  'em. 
Besides,  he  was  winning.  That  helps  with 
crowds. 

Paying  them  bets  was  complex.  We  was 
over  eleven  hundred  to  the  good  on  the  turn. 
Other  business  was  suspended,  and  the  crowd 
lined  up,  leaving  the  gladiators  the  center  of 
the  stage,  and  a  twenty-foot  lane  so  they  could 
have  plenty  of  air. 

"I  will  now  avenge  the  crime  of  '73,"  re- 
marks Stranger.  "I'm  getting  it  trained." 
He  made  the  same  layout.  Strike  me  dead,  if 
the  ball  didn't  jump  in  a  pocket — out — and 
back — and  out  again  and  deliberated  between 
2  and  35  while  the  wheel  went  around  four- 

42 


THE  NUMISMATIST 

teen  times.  You  could  have  heard  the  split- 
second  hand  on  a  stop  watch  in  the  next  coun- 
ty while  it  balanced — and  at  last  rope-walked 
down  in  two. 

"Two,  red,  even,"  says  Frenchy  in  a  shocked 
voice,  like  he  was  seem'  things  at  night. 

No  one  could  yell — they  was  a-catching  of 
their  breath.  And  we  lays  by  twelve  hundred 
and  fifty  more. 

"Before  proceeding  further  with  my  witch- 
craft," says  Stranger,  "I  would  ask  you  to  set 
your  valuation  of  layout,  lookout,  license  and 
good-will.  Because,"  he  says,  "any  fool  can 
see  that  the  ball  stops  on  the  one  this  time. 
Science,  poetry,  logic,  romance,  sentiment  and 
justice  point  to  it,  like  spokes  to  a  hub.  And 
if  you're  going  to  bank  with  that  chicken 
feed" — jerking  his  chin  toward  the  shattered 
fragments  of  the  bank  roll — "you'll  have  to 
lower  your  limit  .  .  ,.  before  I  play. 
Oh,  I'm  learning  fast." 

43 


Frenchy  looks  unhappy,  but  there  wasn't 
nothing  to  say.  His  pile  wasn't  big  enough 
to  pay  if  Stranger's  predictions  was  accurate. 
"Bring  me  my  sack,  Brown,"  he  calls  out. 
Brown  opens  his  safe  and  lugs  over  the  sack. 
Frenchy  pours  it  out  on  the  table — ten  thou- 
sand dollars,  bills  of  all  sizes  from  five  to  a 
thousand,  and  a  coffee-pot  full  of  gold. 
"Shoot,"  he  says.  "You're  faded." 

Stranger  eclipses  the  one  spot  with  ten  dol- 
lar bills:  ten  each  on  corners,  the  four  sides 
and  the  middle.  "It's  a  sure  thing — we'd  just 
as  well  have  some  side  money,"  he  says,  bet- 
ting ten  each  on  black,  odd,  first  column,  first 
dozen  and  i  to  18.  "Mr.  Brown,"  he  says, 
"the  gentleman  who  runs  the  game  will  hand 
you  seventy  dollars  when  the  ball  stops. 
Drinks  for  the  crowd  while  it  lasts,"  and  drops 
ten  each  on  16  and  2,  for  luck. 

Buz-z-z.    The  ball  hums  a  cheerful  ditty, 


THE   NUMISMATIST 

like  hot  coffee   on   a  cold   day.     Buz-z-z — 
Click. 

Frenchy  goes  into  a  trance,  chewing  his 
mouth.  He  moistens  his  lips  and  makes  an 
effort.  "One,  black,  and  odd!"  His  voice 
was  cracked  and  horrified. 

"What  a  pleasant  dream!"  I  thinks.  "It's 
a  shame  to  wake  up  and  wrangle  horses,  but 
it  must  be  near  day."  I  tries  to  open  my  eyes, 
but  couldn't.  'Twas  no  dream  of  avarice. 
Stranger  was  just  visible  above  a  pyramid  of 
deferred  dividends. 

"Great  Democratic  gains,"  he  announces. 
"Gentlemen — in  fact,  all  of  you — what'll  you 
have?" 

"I  guess  that  includes  me,  all  right,"  states 
a  big  miner.  "Strictly  speaking,  I  don't  want 
no  drink  now,  but,  if  you'd  just  as  soon  tell 
me  what  color  my  old  pack-mare's  next  colt'll 
be,  I  sh'd  be  obliged." 

45 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

No  one  wanted  a  drink — nobody  moved. 
More  miracles  was  what  they  wanted. 
"What?  No  drinks?"  says  Stranger.  "Pro- 
hibition landslide  in  Terrapin?  Can  I  be- 
lieve my  ears — or  my  nose?  Well,  then,  I 
will  pursue  my  hellish  purpose.  I  appeal  to 
the  calm  judgment  of  this  crowd,  if  they  ever 
heard  of  an  election  without  repeaters?"  But 
he  doesn't  let  his  gaze  wander  to  the  crowd 
none  whatever.  He  never  taken  both  eyes  off 
Frenchy  to  oncet,  since  the  limit  had  been 
pulled  on  him. 

He  decorated  the  board  just  as  it  was  the 
last  time,  and  looks  on  with  pleased  expect- 
ancy while  the  ball  spins.  I  hope  I  may  be 
saved  it  it  didn't  come  a  repeater! 

Stranger  yawns  as  he  pulls  in  thirteen  hun- 
dred and  twenty  dollars.  "Thanking  you  for 
your  kind  attention,"  he  states,  "the  entertain- 
ment is  now  concluded.  Will  some  one  trust 
me  for  a  sack?" 

46 


THE   NUMISMATIST 

"Feet  cold?"  sneers  Frenchy. 

"Oh  no,  I'm  quite  comfortable.  But  I 
might  lose  if  I  kept  on,"  Stranger  explains. 
"Those  numbers  may  not  come  again  for  ever 
so  long.  This  is  a  piking  game,  anyhow.  I 
like  to  bet  my  money  in  large  chunks." 

"You  seem  to  be  a  sort  of  a  Democrat,"  sug- 
gests Frenchy.  "Why  not  back  up  your 
views?  Here's  seven  thousand  says  McKin- 
ley's  elected." 

"Why,  that's  my  game,"  says  Stranger, 
beaming.  "That's  just  what  I  wanted. 
Bryan's  going  to  sweep  the  country  from  Dan 
to  Milwaukee." 

I  gives  him  the  nudge,  for  I  sees  our  pile 
a-glimmering.  I  don't  mind  betting  on  cards 
or  horses  and  such,  but  politics  is  tricky.  But 
he  prattles  on,  plumb  carried  away  by  the 
courage  of  his  convictions. 

Frenchy's  nose  dented.  Why,  I  learned 
later,  but  I'll  tell  you  now.  Terrapin  was 

47 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

sixty  miles  from  a  telegraph  office  and  all 
right-minded  citizens  was  here  present.  But 
this  sure-thing  sport,  knowing  we  was  all  for 
Bryan,  had  posted  a  relay  on  the  North  trail 
to  bring  him  news.  It  was  now  way  past  mid- 
night. He  had  known  McKinley  was  in  since 
about  the  time  I  was  staking  Stranger,  and 
poor,  innocent,  confiding  Stranger  walks  right 
into  his  trap. 

"Even  money?"  asks  Frenchy. 

"I  would  shorely  scorn  to  take  such  an  ad- 
vantage of  you,"  says  Stranger.  "I'll  give 
you  a  chance  for  your  white  alley.  I  will 
now  proceed  to  divide  my  capital  into  five 
parts.  The  first  part  contains  fifteen  hundred 
dollars,  which  I  bet  you  against  five  hundred 
dollars  that  Bryan  is  our  next  President.  I 
will  then  bet  you  fifteen  hundred  even  that 
Bryan  carries  thirty-six  states,  a  list  of  which 
I  will  make  out  and  seal.  Third  pile,  two 
thousand  dollars,  gives  you  a  chance  to  break 

48 


THE   NUMISMATIST 

even  if  you're  lucky.  Give  me  odds  of  five  to 
one  and  I  bet  this  two  thousand  that  Bryan 
carries  four  other  states,  names  of  which  will 
also  be  deposited  under  seal  with  stake-holder. 
Pile  number  four,  five  hundred  dollars,  goes 
even  that  I  made  a  good  bet.  Number  five, 
one  hundred  and  sixty-six  dollars,  goes  in  my 
pocket  for  tobacco  and  postage  stamps  and 
other  luxuries." 

"You're  delirious.  Your  money's  a  gift," 
says  Frenchy.  "Make  out  your  agreements. 
It'll  take  more'n  I  got  to  cover  that  five  to  one 
bet,  but  I  can  borrow  the  Northern  Pacific  on 
that  proposition."  He  takes  Brown  off  for  a 
confidential  and  comes  back  with  the  money 
by  the  time  Stranger  had  the  bet  in  writing 
and  signed. 

Frenchy  reads  it  aloud.  "You  are  all  wit- 
nesses," he  says,  and  slaps  his  fist  to  it. 
"Name  your  stake-holder." 

"Put  it  in  Mr.  Brown's  safe — money,  agree- 
49 


TROLLEY   FOLLY, 

ment  and  my  two  lists  of  states.  Decide  to- 
morrow at  five  P.  M.  when  the  stage  comes  in." 

They  makes  a  bundle  of  it  and  locks  it  up. 
"And  now,"  says  Stranger  to  me,  "my  pre- 
sentiments points  for  bed." 

"Why  couldn't  you  quit  when  I  wanted  you 
to,  you  ijit?"  I  says.  "You  made  the  worst 
break  I  ever  see." 

"You  certainly  surprise  me.  Haven't  I 
raised  you  to  a  position  of  opulence  by  my 
acumen  and  foresight?  Your  ingratitude 
grieves  me  to  my  heart's  core — and  just  when 
we  stand  to  more  than  double  our  money,  too." 

"Acumen!  Foresight!"  I  jeers.  "'Twas 
blind,  bulldog,  damn-fool  luck.  I  furnished 
all  the  judgment  used  when  I  tried  to  stop  you. 
I  put  up  the  money,  and  you  had  a  right  to 
harken  to  me." 

"You're  my  partner,"  says  he  calmly. 
"Half  this  money  is  yours,  and  all,  if  you  need 
it.  But  I  lost  your  money.  This  here  is  the 

50 


THE  NUMISMATIST 

proceeds  of  my  iron  dollar.  By  to-morrow 
night  we'll  have  eleven  thousand,  anyway,  and 
here  you're  complaining.  I  do  hate  a  quit- 
ter." 

"And  I  hate  a  fool.  You  have  a  chance  to 
win  one  bet,  and  that's  all." 

"You'll  regret  this  hasty  speech  to-morrow 
night.  Follow  me,  and  you'll  wear  dia- 
monds!" 

"Yes — on  the  seat  of  my  pants,"  I  rejoins 
bitterly.  And  all  them  somewhat  diverse 
prophecies  came  to  pass. 

When  we  woke,  after  noon,  'twas  pretty 
well  known  how  the  election  went,  and  we  was 
guyed  unmerciful. 

But  Stranger  wasn't  noways  dejected.  "Ru- 
mor— mere  rumor.  'Out  of  the  nettle  danger 
we  may  pluck  the  flower  safety,' "  he  spouts, 
waving  his  hands  like  a  windmill.  "I've 
been  in  worse  emergencies,  and  always 
emerged." 

51 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

I  was  considerable  sore  and  was  for  not 
showing  up  to  turn  over  the  money,  but  he 
persuaded  me. 

"At  the  worst  Frenchy  owes  me  ten  that  I 
won  fair  on  the  second  bet  last  night,"  he  says. 
"If  I  have  to  collect  that,  I  aim  to  charge  him 
something  for  collectin'.  I  had  that  in  mind 
last  night  if  the  green  hadn't  come  when  my 
dollar  was  on  it." 

I  sees  reason  in  this,  and  oils  my  guns. 

Frenchy  was  waitin'  with  his  lookout,  gay 
and  cheerful.  "Did  you  bring  your  sack?" 
was  his  greeting. 

"Why,  no,  I  forgot.  Hi!  Bud!"  Stranger 
gives  a  boy  five  dollars.  "Bring  an  ore  sack 
to  the  barkeep  for  me,  and  keep  the  change." 

We  gets  Brown  with  the  package  of  stake 
money  and  prognostications  on  our  way 
through  the  crowd  to  a  back  room.  Brown 
busts  the  package  and  begins  the  hollow 
mockery. 

52 


THE   NUMISMATIST 

"Bet  number  one."  He  reads  the  specifi- 
cations. "Bryan  loses.  Any  objections?" 

Stranger  shakes  his  head  sorrowful,  and 
pushes  over  the  two-thousand-dollar  packet. 

"Bet  number  two."  Brown  breaks  the  list 
of  thirty-six  states.  "For  Bryan,"  he  reads: 
"Connecticut,  New  York,  Indiana,  Illinois, 
Michigan,  Minnesota — "  His  feelings  over- 
come him  and  he  laughs  till  the  tears  roll 
down  his  face.  Frenchy  leers,  and  the  look- 
out rocks  himself  back  and  forward.  And  to 
cap  it  off  comes  a  knock,  and  barkeep  comes  in 
with  the  sack  Stranger  ordered. 

They  howled.  "I'll  give  you  ten  for  your 
sack,"  gasps  Frenchy. 

"You  needn't  rub  it  in,"  says  Stranger,  in- 
jured. "I  certain  was  mistook  in  them  esti- 
mates. Pass  on  to  the  next." 

"Third  bet,"  wheezes  Brown.  He  wipes 
his  cheeks  and  tears  open  the  list  of  four 
States.  "Bryan  will  carry — "  he  begins.  He 


TROLLEY   FOLLY. 

turns  pale,  his  tongue  stuck  to  the  roof  of 
his  mouth,  and  his  eyes  bugged  out  so  you 
could  hang  your  hat  on  'em. 

"TEXAS  I"  he  screeches.  "Arkansas,  Geor- 
gia, SOUTH  CAROLINA!" 

"Then  I  made  a  good  bet!"  observes 
Stranger,  popping  the  rest  of  the  money  into 
the  sack. 

"What!"  yells  Frenchy.  "You  were  to 
name  four  additional  states — forty  in  all!" 

"Oh,  no.  Four  others.  These  four  were 
not  in  my  list  of  thirty-six.  You  lost  and 
I've  got  the  mon.  Why  didn't  you  inquire? 
You  orter  understand  a  game  before  you  play 
it.  This  is  my  game,  and  my  rules  go.  See?" 

Stranger's  gun  was  dangling  on  his  right 
hip,  but,  as  Frenchy  drew,  Stranger's  right 
hand  caught  his'n,  gun  and  all,  and  Stranger's 
left  produced  a  .45  from  nowhere  at  all  and 
proceeds  to  bend  it  over  Frenchy's  head.  The 
tin-horn  couldn't  get  his  right  hand  loose,  so 

54 


THE   NUMISMATIST 

he  reaches  around  with  his  left,  jerks  Stran- 
ger's gun  from  his  hip.  But  he  only  wastes 
time  snapping  it,  for  that  one  wasn't  loaded. 

I  thought  maybe  Brown  and  the  lookout 
would  double  up  on  my  pardner,  but  they 
didn't.  They  just  shoved  the  two  pits  of  their 
two  stomachs  up  against  the  muzzles  of  my 
two  guns,  and  looked  foolish. 

"NufT!"  screams  Frenchy,  letting?  go  his 
gun.  He  looks  like  ration  day  at  Rosebud. 
Me  and  Stranger  walks  out,  sticking  closer'n 
brothers,  lockstepping,  back  to  back. 

"What'd  I  tell  you?"  says  Stranger,  turning 
in  at  a  butcher  shop.  And  there  he  asks  may 
we  use  the  scales,  and  pours  our  ill-gotten 
gains  into  both  scoops  till  they  balance. 
"Take  your  choice,  pardner,"  he  says. 
"You're  short  on  faith,  but  you're  hell  on 
works !" 

Next  to  a  restaurant.  Before  our  order 
comes,  in  steps  Billy  Edwards.  He  was  a 

55 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

deputy  sheriff,  but  white.  "Would  you  mind 
my  asking  your  name?  'Cause  Frenchy 
doesn't  know.  He's  swearing  out  a  warrant 
for  you,  alleging  assault  with  intent  to  kill," 
says  Billy  politely.  "They  haven't  give  me 
the  warrant  yet.  Course  if  they  had  I  would- 
n't tell  you  this,  for  you  might  get  away  be- 
fore I  found  you." 

I'd  never  thought  to  ask  his  name! 

"Artemus  G.  Jones,"  says  he,  and  he  stuck 
his  thumb  in  his  vest.  "Set  down  and  take 
supper  with  us." 

"Ar — ahem.  Er — what  does  the  G.  stand 
for?" 

Artie  looks  embarrassed.  "Galatians,"  he 
sighs. 

"What?    Was  you  named  after — " 

"I  was  named,"  says  Artie,  "after  a  family 
scrap.  Can't  you  suppress  it?  Artemus  G. 
ought  to  identify  me." 


Frenchy  told  a  terrible  tale  of  wanton  robbery.     Page  57 


THE  NUMISMATIST 

"I — I  thought  it  might  spell  easier,"  says 
Billy. 

After  supper  we  walks  over  and  gets  the 
warrant.  Billy  arrests  Artie  and  disarms 
him.  "You  know  your  business — I'll  make 
any  kind  of  bet  on  that,"  says  Billy;  "but  in 
your  place  I  should  have  been  far  away  on  a 
bounding  bronco." 

We  went  to  be  tried  before  Judge  Eliot. 
Frenchy  kept  a  jack-leg  lawyer  named  Sat- 
terlee,  and  he  was  helping  persecute. 

"Have  you  legal  advice,  prisoner?"  says  his 
Honor. 

"A  little,"  says  Artie  softly. 

"Proceed.     Call  the  plaintiff." 

Frenchy  took  the  stand  and  told  a  terrible 
tale  of  wanton  robbery  and  brutal,  unpro- 
voked violence.  He  had  won  an  election  bet 
from  prisoner,  and  prisoner  had  taken  the 
money  by  force.  He  showed  his  wounds. 

57 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

He  shore  looked  like  he'd  been  playing  goat 
with  a  buzz-saw. 

Brown  and  the  lookout  was  good  witnesses, 
but  they  let  out,  when  the  Judge  questioned 
them,  that  Artie  had  the  money  in  his  sack  be- 
fore the  trouble  began  and  that  Frenchy  had 
a  gun.  And  not  a  word  about  my  presence 
of  mind. 

Artie  allowed  he  wouldn't  cross-examine 
them.  His  Honor  was  riled.  "Will  you 
take  the  stand,  sir?"  he  says. 

Artie  stretches.  "Oh,  no — I  guess  it's  not 
worth  while  to  take  up  your  time.  Ugh — o — 
oaoh,"  he  says,  yawning. 

Judge  was  furious.  "Prisoner,  if  you've 
got  any  witnesses  in  your  defense,  call  'em. 
As  the  evidence  stands — up  you  go!" 

Artie  placed  himself  on  top  of  his  feet. 
"Your  Honor,"  he  says  "call  Billy  Edwards." 

Billy  gives  his  name,  sex,  color,  and  other 
essentials.  Then  says  Artie : 

58 


THE  NUMISMATIST 

"You  arrested  me  to-night?" 

"Yes." 

"Was  my  gun  loaded?" 

"One  of  them  was  empty.  The  other  one 
had  five  cartridges  in  it,"  Edwards  promptly 
asserts. 

"Was  the  loaded  one  bloody?" 

"Awful." 

"That's  all,"  says  Artie  with  a  gracious 
wave  of  his  hand,  dismissing  the  witness. 
"Your  Honor,  our  friend  the  Gaul,  alias 
Frenchy,  is  before  you.  I  am  refined  by  na- 
ture. One  gentle  pull  on  the  trigger  would 
have  removed  all  doubt.  He  would  have 
been  dead  dead.  He  isn't.  I  move  that  my 
client,  Artemus  G.  Jones,  me,  I,  myself,  be 
discharged,  and  plaintiff  reprimanded  for 
frivolity  in  taking  up  the  time  of  the  court. 
Had  I  wished  to  kill  this  jigger  I  certainly 
would  have  shot  him.  The  gun  that  was 
bloody  was  the  gun  of  Artemus,"  and  Artie 

59 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

paid  the  whole  blamed  court  a  compliment 
by  the  way  he  retired. 

Frenchy's  lawyer  began  to  holler,  but  the 
judge  cut  him  quick.  "Sit  down,  Mr.  Sat- 
terlee,"  says  he.  "Unless  you  can  prove  your 
client  is  dead,  the  court  will  pursue  the  course 
indicated  by  the  learned  counsel  for  defense." 

"Selah!"  says  Satterlee.  "I'm  down.  Set 
'em  up  in  the  other  alley." 


60 


Ill 

THE  MASCOT  OF  THE  GRAYS 

A  BASE-BALL  GAME  AND  THE  SUBSEQUENT 
PROCEEDINGS 

"TITHY,  yes!"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  "I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it,  if  you've  got  the 
time  to  spare.  I  was  managing  the  Grays — 
that  was  the  club  from  the  west  side  of  the 
river,  you  know — and  we  thought  ourselves 
the  prettiest  things  that  ever  played  base-ball 
in  Dakota;  for  a  while.  And  then  we  had 
hard  luck.  Our  fancy  pitcher  was  an  ex-sol- 
dier named  Fitzeben ;  a  well-built,  pale,  hand- 
some fellow,  with  lots  of  style,  and  no  heart. 
As  long  as  things  were  coming  his  way,  he 
could  put  up  a  game  of  base-ball  that  would 
make  a  man  forget  his  religion ;  but  if  they  be- 
gan to  find  him  on  the  other  side,  Fitz  would 
go  to  slops  on  the  run.  First-base  was  this  man 

61 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

Falk  you  was  speaking  about.  There  was  a 
Hoodoo  playing  second.  'Hindoo?'  Yes, 
that's  it.  You've  got  it.  He'd  come  a  long 
ways  to  our  town.  Nice,  pleasant  little  man 
he  was,  too,  with  a  name  that  would  have 
made  him  an  overcoat  and  a  pair  of  pants,  and 
then  something  left  for  the  babies — (Dam- 
merjoodeljubberjubberchah,'  or  words  to  that 
effect.  The  boys  called  him  'Jub,'  so  it  didn't 
matter  so  much  about  that." 

Mr.  Perkins  stopped  to  crook  his  elbow, 
as  they  say  in  the  vernacular,  and  stood  a  while 
in  silence,  as  the  tears  of  ecstasy  gathered  in 
his  eyes. 

"Whoo,  Jimmy!"  said  he,  "there  ought  to 
go  a  damper  with  that  whisky — it's  almost 
too  good  with  the  full  draft  on.  Blast 
your  seltzer!  Give  me  water.  I  like  my 
whisky  and  my  water  straight,  just  as  God 
made  'em.  Well,  I  was  telling  you  about 
our  outfit.  One  of  our  fellows  was  crooked 

62 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

as  a  ram's  horn — Jim  Burke,  that  played 
short.  Darn  his  buttons!  He  couldn't  keep 
his  hands  off  other  people's  property  to  save 
his  neck.  And  gall! — say,  that  man  was 
nothing  but  one  big  gall  with  a  thin  wrap- 
per of  meat  around  it.  One  day  old  Solo- 
mon, that  had  the  clothing  store,  comes  to 
me  oozing  trouble. 

"  'Misder  Berkints,'  says  he,  'dere  ain't 
nubuddy  vich  dakes  more  pleasure  in  der 
pall-blaying  as  I  do.  If  you  vant  ten  tol- 
lar  or  dwenty  tollar  vor  der  club,  vy,  dake  id! 
dake  id!  I  gif  it  midout  some  vords,  but  I 
ain't  going  to  stand  such  monkey-doodle  pees- 
nesses.' 

"  What's  the  matter  now,  Sol?' 
"  'Vot  ees  der  madder?  I  tell  you  vat  ees 
der  madder.  Dot  feller  Burke,  he  goom  by 
der  store,  unt  he  valk  off  mid  a  case.  A  case! 
Mein  Gott!  A  whole  case  of  zusbenders, 
und  gollar-puttons,  unt  so  fort!  I  find  him 

63 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

in  Gurley's  blace,  puddin'  it  oop  vor  der 
drinks.  I  don't  vant  to  sboil  der  pall-blay- 
ing,  bud  dot  feller  ort  to  bin  in  chail.' 

"I  went  with  him,  and  we  hunted  brother 
Burke  up.  I  read  him  the  riot  act,  but  he 
was  brassy. 

"  'Why,  he  give  me  the  case !'  says  he. 

"  'Gif  you  der  case!'  yells  old  Solomon,  'I! 
Vich  ees  me?  Dis  shentleman  right  here?' 
tapping  himself  on  the  chest.  'I  gif  you  dot 
case?  Gott!  Mein  frendt!  You  talk  like 
a  sausage!" 

"There  was  no  use  of  my  trying  to  keep 
my  face  straight.  Talking  like  a  sausage  hit 
me  on  the  funny-bone,  and  I  had  to  holler. 

"But  as  soon  as  I  could  get  my  face  shut, 
I  went  for  Burke  bald-headed.  I  told  him 
I'd  knock  fourteen  different  styles  of  doctrine 
in  him  if  he  didn't  behave  better. 

"There's  where  that  big  stiff  Falk  and  I 
came  together  for  the  first  time. 

64 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

"  What  have  you  got  to  do  with  it?'  says 
he.  'No  harm  done  if  he  cleaned  the  d — d 
Jew  out  entirely.'  Well,  now  mostly  I  hate 
a  Jew  as  well  as  the  next  man,  but  old  Sol  was 
a  free  spender.  He'd  put  up  for  anything 
that  was  going,  and,  Jew  or  no  Jew,  it  made 
me  hot  to  hear  Falk  talk  like  that.  More 
especially  as  his  tone  wasn't  any  too  pleasant. 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you  talking  to,'  says 
I,  'me,  or  the  hired  man?  I  want  you  to 
understand  I'm  running  this  thing,  pardnerP 

"  'Little  chance  anybody  has  to  forget  it,' 
he  says  with  a  big  jarring  laugh.  Don't  you 
know  that  dirty,  sneering  laugh  he  had? 

"Well,  I  was  some  warm.  First  off,  I 
thought  I  would  walk  away  and  not  make  any 
trouble;  then  I  thought  to  myself,  'Here,  I 
fought  Jack  Dempsey  sixteen  rounds  the  last 
time  I  appeared  in  the  ring,  and  I  reckon  I'm 
not  going  to  let  any  big  swaggering  stiff  of  a 
Dutchman  get  away  with  any  such  a  crack 

65 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

as  that!'  Those  fellers  didn't  know  about 
my  being  a  profesh.  I  changed  my  name 
when  I  quit,  after  Dempsey  licked  me,  and  I 
never  was  much  of  a  hand  to  talk. 

"So  without  any  words,  I  drove  a  right- 
hander into  Mr.  Falk's  Adam's  apple.  You'll 
hear  this  and  that  place  spoken  of  as  a  tender 
spot,  but  when  you  want  to  settle  a  man  quick 
and  thorough,  jam  him  in  the  Adam's  apple. 
Falk  must  have  weighed  a  hundred  pounds 
more  than  I  did,  but  he  went  down  like  a 
load  of  bricks.  I  wasn't  taking  any  chances 
with  such  odds  in  weight  against  me.  To 
be  sure,  I  had  the  science,  but  the  only  science 
I  ever  saw  that  was  worth  a  cuss  in  a  street 
fight  is  to  hit  the  other  man  early  and  often, 
and  with  all  the  enthusiasm  you  can  bring 
to  bear.  Falk  laid  on  his  back,  very  thought- 
ful, wondering  where  he  was  going  to  get 
his  next  breath  of  air  from.  A  crack  in  the 

66 


WASCOT   OF   THE   GR~AYS 

Adam's  apple  does  a  good  many  things  at  the 
same  time:  It  stops  your  wind;  gives  you  a 
pain  in  the  head;  a  ringing  in  your  ears;  a 
cramp  in  the  stomach,  and  a  looseness  in  the 
joints,  all  at  once.  I  realized  that  Mr.  Falk 
wouldn't  be  in  condition  to  do  business  for 
some  time,  and  as  I  was  right  in  the  spirit  of 
the  thing,  now -that  I'd  got  started,  I  thought 
I  might  as  well  head  Burke  up,  too. 

"I  cut  him  on  the  end  of  his  Irish  nose,  and 
stood  it  up  in  the  air  like  the  stack  of  an  old 
wood-burner.  Then  I  whaled  him  in  the 
butt  of  the  jaw  for  keeps. 

"He  fell  all  over  Solomon,  and  down  they 
went  together. 

"  'Don'd  you  mindt  me,  Mr.  Berkints,'  says 
old  Sol,  as  he  scrambled  after  his  hat;  'Id's 
all  righd.  Dot's  for  der  zusbenders;  gif  him 
a  vew  vor  der  gollar-puttons.'  He  was  a 
funny  motzer,  that  Solomon.  It  broke  me 

67 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

up  so  the  fight  all  went  out  of  me.  But  I 
up-ended  Burke  and  gave  him  a  medicine 
talk. 

"  'I've  been  too  easy  with  you  fellers,  and 
I  see  it,'  says  I.  'From  this  on,  however, 
there  won't  be  any  complaint  on  that  score. 
You'll  feel  like  a  lost  heathen  god  in  the  wil- 
derness, if  you  try  any  more  playing  horse 
with  me;  I  think  that  blasted  stubborn 
Dutchman  is  beyond  reason — perhaps  I'll 
have  to  really  hurt  him  yet — but  I  think 
there's  reason  in  you,  and  you'd  better  use  it, 
unless  you  want  me  to  spread  you  all  over 
the  fair  face  of  nature.' 

"You  see,  the  citizens  of  the  town  had  been 
liberal  in  coming  through  for  the  ball  team, 
and  naturally  they  took  the  greatest  pride  in 
it.  We  were  like  soldiers  going  out  to  fight. 
Every  time  we  went  away  from  home  to  play, 
the  town  saw  us  off  with  the  band,  and  wel- 
tomed  us  back  with  the  same — winner  or 

68 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

loser.  Now,  I  was  the  manager,  and  of 
course,  everybody  looked  to  me  to  see  that 
things  were  run  right;  consequently,  when 
fellers  cut  up  like  Burke  and  Falk,  it  wasn't 
to  be  stood. 

"Well,  Burke  said  he'd  give  the  matter  his 
careful  consideration. 

"  'All  right,  see  that  you  do,'  says  I.  'Now 
screw  your  nut  home,  and  put  your  face  in  a 
sling  till  you  look  better.  We  don't  want  any 
such  picture  of  hard  times  as  you  are  on  the 
ball  field.' 

"When  Falk  got  so  he  could  understand 
language,  I  gave  him  a  few  passages  of  the 
strongest  conversation  I  had  on  tap. 

"He  listened,  to  be  sure,  and  didn't  give  me 
any  slack;  but  it  was  a  sullen  kind  of  listen- 
ing— just  that  he  was  afraid  to  do  different, 
that's  all. 

"I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  these  two  fellers 
was  really  hired  to  play  ball.  The  superin- 

69 


TROLLEY  FOLLY. 

tendent  of  the  division  gave  them  a  job  in 
the  shops,  and  we  paid  'em  extra.  Falk,  he 
was  a  painter;  and  I  wish  you  could  see  the 
blue,  green  and  yaller  ruin  he  made  of  a 
passenger  car.  The  boss  painter  wasn't  onto 
the  game,  and  took  the  supe's  talk  in  earnest, 
therefore  he  starts  Falk  out  single-handed  to 
paint  the  car.  The  boss  painter  was  a  quiet 
man  usually,  but  when  he  saw  that  work  of 
art,  he  let  go  of  some  expressions  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  a  steamboat  rooster. 
More,  he  heaved  a  can  of  red  paint  on 
brother  Falk,  and  swore  he'd  kill  him  too 
dead  to  skin,  if  he  dared  put  foot  in  the  shop 
again.  This  boss  painter  was  a  sandy  little 
man,  even  if  he  wasn't  as  big  as  a  pint  of  cider, 
and  had  been  leaded  so  many  times  that  he 
shook  like  a  quaking  asp.  The  supe  had  to 
argue  with  him  loud  and  long  before  he'd 
hear  of  Falk's  coming  back. 

"Burke  went  into  the  round-house,  where 
70 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

all  the  fellers  were  more  or  less  sports,  and 
understood  the  play. 

"Not  square  to  hire  'em?  Well,  it  wasn't 
exactly,  but  the  crowd  across  the  river  taught 
us  the  game — they  did  it  first. 

"Well,  now  I'll  tell  you  how  we  came  by 
the  Injun — the  mascot.  He  was  an  old  fel- 
ler— the  Lord  only  knows  how  old — who  used 
to  hang  around  the  station  selling  Injun  trink- 
ets to  the  passengers.  He  had  a  stick  with 
notches  cut  into  it  to  tell  how  old  he  was,  but 
the  boys  used  to  get  the  stick  and  cut  more 
notches  when  his  nibs  wasn't  looking,  until 
Methusalom  was  a  suckling  kid  alongside  of 
that  record.  'Me  so  old — huh,'  the  Injun 
used  to  say,  and  hand  the  stick  to  the  pas- 
sengers. They'd  be  full  of  interest  until  they 
counted  up  to  four  or  five  hundred,  when 
they  would  smile  in  a  sickly  way,  and  go 
about  their  business,  feeling  that  they  had 
been  taken  in  shameful,  and  much  regretting 

71 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

the  quarter,  or  whatever  chicken-feed  it  was 
they  contributed  to  old  Bloody-Ripping- 
Thunder's  support.  No,  'Bloody-Ripping- 
Thunder'  probably  wasn't  his  name;  but 
that's  what  young  Solomon  christened  him. 

"Young  Solomon  was  nephew  to  the  old 
feller,  and  his  pardner  in  the  clothing  store. 
He  was  a  great  sport.  A  darned  decent 
young  lad.  It  was  his  idea  that  we  needed 
a  mascot.  We  sure  did  need  something  about 
that  time,  for  if  there  was  anything  in  Dakota 
that  hadn't  beaten  us,  it  was  only  because  they 
didn't  know  our  address. 

"Ike  Solomon  takes  Rip — that's  short  for 
the  aforesaid  Injun — into  his  store  one  day, 
a  bent,  white-haired  old  man,  clad  in  a  dirty 
blanket,  moccasins,  and  a  hat  that  looked  as 
if  it  had  come  off  the  rag  heap,  and  he  works 
a  miracle  with  him.  He  wouldn't  let  nary 
one  of  us  inside  until  he'd  carried  out  his 
plans. 

72 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

"When  we  did  go  in,  there  stood  as  spruce 
a  young  gent  of  a  hundred  or  so  as  ever  you 
see.  That  Injun  had  on  a  cheap  but  decent 
light  hand-me-down  suit,  b'iled  shirt  and 
paper  collar,  red  necktie,  canvas  shoes — 
mighty  small  they  were;  he  had  feet  like  a 
lady — pocket-handkercher  with  red  border 
sticking  out  of  his  pocket,  cane  in  his  hand, 
a  white  plug  hat  on  his  head  and  a  pair  of 
specs  on  his  nose.  We  were  simply  dum- 
founded;  that's  the  only  word  for  it.  The 
old  cuss  carried  himself  pretty  well.  Darned 
if  you'd  find  a  white  man  of  his  years  that  had 
as  much  style  to  him.  And  proud!  Well, 
that  don't  give  you  any  idea  of  it.  He 
strutted  around  like  a  squint-eyed  girl  that's 
just  hooked  a  feller. 

"When  he  started  off  down  the  street  to 
give  the  folks  a  benefit,  we  had  our  laugh  out. 

"Into  every  store  of  the  place  goes  Mr. 
Rip.  Walks  up  and  down  and  says  'Huh!' 

73 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

After  he  thinks  the  folks  have  had  a  fair  show 
to  take  in  his  glory,  'Huh!'  says  he  again, 
and  tries  next  door.  The  whole  town  was 
worked  up  over  it.  The  fellers  would  shake 
him  by  the  hand,  bowing  and  scraping  and 
giving  him  all  sorts  of  steers. 

"Well,  we  had  our  mascot  now,  so  there 
was  no  particular  reason  why  we  shouldn't 
try  to  get  somebody's  scalp. 

"We  sent  a  challenge  to  the  Maroons,  which 
they  accepted,  too  quick.  The  game  was  to 
be  played  on  our  grounds,  and  with  the  eyes 
of  our  friends  on  us,  you  bet  we  meant  to  do 
our  little  best;  but  luck  was  against  us.  Our 
second  base,  the  Hoodoo,  had  got  snake  bit. 
Rattler  struck  him  in  the  right  hand.  He 
had  a  mighty  close  squeak  for  his  life.  The 
right  field,  Doctor  Andis,  the  nicest  gentle- 
man that  ever  wore  shoes,  was  coming  down 
with  the  fever  that  carried  him  off. 

"To  crown  all,  just  when  I  should  have 
74 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

been  rustling  around  the  liveliest,  I  had  one 
of  my  headaches — the  worst  I  ever  had. 
Lord!  For  three  days  I  couldn't  see,  and 
then  a  fool  of  a  man  told  me  whisky  was 
good  for  it,  and  I  took  his  advice.  When 
the  drink  started  my  heart  up,  darned  if  I 
didn't  think  the  top  of  my  head  was  coming 
off.  I  ought  to  have  been  in  bed  the  day 
of  the  game,  but  of  course  that  wasn't  to  be 
thought  of. 

"Well,  the  boys  were  nervous,  and  I  was 
sick,  and  though  I  tried  my  best  to  put  a 
good  foot  forward,  I'm  afraid  I  didn't  help 
matters  any. 

"Everybody  and  his  grandmother  turned 
out.  The  town  knocked  off  business  al- 
together. The  weather  was  fine  for  ball, 
with  this  exception,  the  wind  blew  strong  up- 
field.  That  was  dead  against  us,  though  it 
helped  their  pitcher  mightily,  as  he  was  weak 
on  curves,  and  pitching  into  the  wind  added 

75 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

at  least  a  foot  to  his  range.  With  our  man, 
Fitzeben,  it  was  different;  he  had  a  tremen- 
dous knack  on  curves;  blamed  if  he  couldn't 
almost  send  a  ball  around  a  tree,  and  the 
extra  twist  threw  him  off  his  reckoning  so 
badly  that  he  lost  all  command  of  the  ball, 
and  finally  got  so  rattled  that  we  had  to  put 
another  man  in,  in  the  fifth  inning.  They 
were  slaughtering  us  then — the  score  was  fif- 
teen to  two.  We  picked  up  a  little  after 
that,  and  in  the  ninth  it  looked  as  if  we  might 
tie  them,  if  we  had  barrels  of  good  luck. 

"Falk  went  to  bat.  I  cautioned  him  to 
wait  for  his  chance;  but  you  know  what  a 
grand-stand  player  he  was;  he  had  the  gal- 
lery in  his  eye  all  the  time.  He  was  a  big, 
fine  looking  feller,  in  a  way,  but  stuck  on 
his  shape  beyond  all  reason ;  so,  instead  of  tak- 
ing it  easy,  he  swipes  at  everything  that  came, 
keeping  up  a  running  fire  of  brag  all  the 
time  that  made  everybody  very  tired. 

76 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

"Just  before  the  last  ball  crossed  the  plate, 
he  gave  the  folks  to  understand  that  he  was 
going  to  belt  the  cover  off  it,  and  the  re- 
mains would  land  down  by  the  river.  He 
made  a  fierce  pass  at  it;  missed  it  a  mile, 
caught  his  toe  and  waltzed  off  on  his  ear. 
He  got  a  dirty  fall  and  everybody  was  glad  of 
it.  We  all  laughed  'Haw!  Haw!'  just  as 
loud  as  we  could.  Falk  got  up,  boiling  mad. 
He  looked  at  us  as  if  he'd  like  to  eat  us  raw; 
but  there  wasn't  any  one  round  there  he  felt 
safe  to  make  trouble  with,  until  his  eyes  fell 
on  old  Ripping-Thunder,  sitting  up  straight 
in  his  new  clothes  and  specs  and  plug  hat 
and  cane,  and  laughing  as  fine  as  anybody. 
Then  that  big  Dutchman  did  the  cowardliest 
thing  I  ever  saw;  he  walks  up  and  smashes 
poor  Rip  in  the  face,  just  as  hard  as  he  could 
drive.  'Now  laugh!  you  d — d  Injun!'  says 
he.  There  was  a  riot  in  a  minute,  and  I 
had  to  keep  the  fellers  off  of  Falk,  though 

77 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

the  Lord  knows  my  mind  was  different  I  The 
other  captain  refused  to  play  the  game  out. 
He  didn't  want  any  truck  with  such  people, 
he  said,  and,  while  our  boys  were  crying  hot, 
we  couldn't  do  a  thing  but  let  'em  go. 

"I  picked  up  old  Rip  and  asked  him  if 
he  was  hurt.  He  tried  to  smile — although 
his  mouth  looked  like  an  accident  to  a  balloon, 
where  that  big  lubber  hit  him — and  told  me 
no,  not  hurt. 

"But  his  eyes  were  on  Falk  all  the  time, 
following  every  move  he  made.  I  tell  you 
what,  my  son,  never  you  hit  an  Injun  un- 
awares. No  matter  how  old  or  helpless  he 
may  seem,  it  ain't  safe.  An  Injun's  not  out 
of  it  till  he's  dead,  and  then  it's  just  as  well 
to  be  careful.  I  know  one  buck  that  lashed 
the  trigger  of  his  rifle  to  his  arm  with  his 
dying  hands,  and  blew  a  hole  like  a  railroad 
tunnel  through  the  feller  that  tried  to  take 
his  gun  away  from  him,  as  well  as  changing 

78 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

the  appearance  of  the  next  man  behind,  which 
was  me;  you  can  see  the  mark  running  back 
from  my  eyebrow.  I'll  tell  you  about  that 
skirmish  sometime.  It  was  the  liveliest  I 
ever  got  into.  Well,  the  Injun's  eyes  were 
a  little  bleary  from  age  before,  but  they  were 
bright  enough  now.  I  know  I  thought  it 
won't  be  well  for  you,  brother  Falk,  if  the 
old  man  gets  a  crack  at  you;  but  being  so 
disgusted  with  the  way  things  come  out,  and 
sick  besides,  I  didn't  pay  much  attention. 

"The  next  day  was  prairie-chicken  day. 
Fifteenth  of  August  the  law's  -up,  ain't  it? 
I  can  remember  the  day  all  right,  but  I'm 
never  quite  sure  of  the  date — and  all  of  the 
fellers  turned  out  in  force  to  reduce  the  visi- 
ble supply  of  chicken;  me  and  my  friend 
Stevens  among  the  rest.  We  got  a  later  start 
than  most  of  the  boys,  and  it  must  have  been 
ten  or  after  before  we  reached  McMillan's 
flat,  where  we  were  going  to  do  our  shoot- 

79 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

ing.  We  drove  around  here  and  there,  but 
we  never  flushed  a  feather. 

"  'Now,  Jay,'  says  Stevens,  'let's  cut  for  old 
man  Simon's  shack;  there  is  likely  to  be  some 
birds  in  his  wheat  stubble.'  So  off  we  went. 
We  were  sailing  down  the  little  sharp  coulee 
which  opens  on  Simon  bottom  when  we 
heard  a  gun-shot  to  the  right,  and  not  far  off. 

"  'Hello!'  says  Stevens,  'there's  a  fellow  in 
luck;  we'll  give  him  a  lift  if  he's  got  more 
than  he  can  handle.' 

"  'Sounded  more  like  a  rifle  to  me,  Steve,' 
says  I. 

"  'Well,  let's  investigate  anyhow — what  the 
blazes  is  that?'  For  just  then  riz  up  a  wild 
howl,  'Don't  shoot!  Don't  shoot!'  it  says. 

"  'I  could  swear  that  that  was  the  voice  of 
that  sweet  gentleman,  Mr.  Falk,'  says  I.  'Tie 
up,  and  we'll  creep  to  the  top  of  the  bank 
and  see  what's  going  on ;  if  Falk's  in  trouble, 

80 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  anything.'  We  made 
our  sneak  and  looked  down.  Beneath  us  was  a 
sort  of  big  pot-hole,  say  forty  foot  across. 
On  one  side  was  brother  Falk,  his  face  as 
serious  as  though  he  was  playing  a  rubber 
with  the  gent  that  always  wins,  but  stepping 
it  high,  wide,  and  frolicsome.  Gee!  what 
pigeon  wings  and  didoes  he  cut!  And  the 
reason  of  it  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  pot- 
hole watching  him — Brother  Ripping-Thun- 
der, with  a  rifle  in  his  hand,  enjoying  himself 
much,  and  smiling  as  good  as  the  damaged 
condition  of  his  mouth  would  allow. 

"'Hunh!'  says  he,  'that's  plenty  dance — 
now  stand  on  head.' 

"'I  can't!'  says  Falk,  'I  don't  know  how!' 

"  'Learn !'  says  the  Injun,  'now  good  time.' 

"Falk  started  to  make  some  objections,  but 

old  Rip  raised  the  rifle,  and  Falk,  with  a 

wild,  despairing  cuss,  up-ended  himself.    He 

81 


TROLLEY.  FOLLY, 

was  a  big  man,  as  I've  told  you,  and  when  he 
keeled  over  he  come  down  so  hard  it  jarred 
the  earth. 

"  Wakstashonee !'  cries  Rip,  'that  worst  I 
ever  see!  Got  to  do  better,  or  I  shoot  any- 
how!' 

"So  up  goes  Falk,  and  down  he  comes,  and 
up  he  goes  and  down  he  comes,  in  all  kinds 
of  shapes  and  styles  till  Steve  and  me,  we 
had  to  jam  our  handkerchers  in  our  mouths 
for  fear  we'd  snort  out  loud  and  spoil  the 
game. 

"'Holy  sufferin'!'  says  Steve,  'but  ain't  he 
just  everlastingly  run  up  against  the  worst  of 
it  this  heat!  We  couldn't  have  wished  no 
better  if  we  tried,  Jay!' 

"Well,  I  should  say  that  there  wasn't  a 
piece  as  big  as  a  quarter  on  Falk  that  wasn't 
black  and  blue  when  at  last  he  seemed  to  get 
the  knack  of  it,  and  held  himself  up  in  a 
wobbly  sort  of  way. 

82 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

"  'There,'  says  Rip,  'that's  more  like  busi- 
ness. Just  keep  feet  still — I  going  to  shoot 
heels  off  boots.' 

"Falk  hollered  murder. 

"Old  Rip  shook  his  head.  'You  make  such 
noise  I  get  rattled  and  shoot  hole  through 
foot,'  he  complained.  Falk  shut  up  like  a 
clam. 

"  'Here  we  go  fresh!'  says  Rip.  'Now 
don't  move  feet.' 

"Blam!  And  the  right  heel  zipped  into 
space.  Blim!  And  away  went  the  left  one. 

"'Good  shooting  for  old  man!'  says  Rip. 
'Now  you  rest.  Bimeby  we  have  some  more 
fun.' 

"You  should  have  seen  Falk's  face  as  he  sat 
there  resting,  with  the  pleasant  future  in  his 
mind.  He  wasn't  happy,  and  he  showed  it. 
As  soon  as  he  got  his  wind  he  tried  to  bribe 
Rip,  but  it  didn't  go.  He  promised  him 
money  and  ponies  and  whisky  and  tobacco, 

83 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

and  everything  under  the  sun.  Rip  simply 
shook  his  head.  'Don't  want!'  says  he. 
'Having  plenty  good  time  now.  Don't  talk 
any  more.  Want  think  what  do  next.' 

"So  there  they  sat,  and  whenever  Rip 
looked  at  a  place,  Falk,  he  looked  too,  for 
he  had  a  large  interest  in  the  matter,  and  it 
was  pretty  medium  hard  to  figure  out  what 
was  passing  through  Rip's  head. 

"There  was  a  mud-puddle  with  about  six 
inches  of  water  and  six  foot  of  mud  at  the 
end  of  the  pot-hole.  Rip  took  that  in  very 
earnest. 

"  'Hunh,'  says  he,  'you  rested  nowl' 

"'No,  I  ain't!'  cries  Falk,  with  the  sweat 
starting  out  all  over  him.  'I  ain't  rested  a 
little  bit.  Now,  just  wait  a  minute — honest, 
I'm  all  played  out!' 

"  'No  ask  question — tell  you  about  it.  I 
say  rested,  you  rested/  answers  Rip,  in  a  tone 
of  voice  that  wasn't  to  be  argued  with.  Falk 

84 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

knuckled.  'For  God's  sake!  What's  it  going 
to  be  now?'  he  asked. 

"  'You  fish,''  says  Rip.  'Plenty  dam  big  fat 
fish,  you!'  He  pointed  to  the  puddle.  'Now 
swim !' 

"I  may  have  mentioned  that  Falk  was  stuck 
on  his  appearance?  Well,  he  was — power- 
ful. So  when  it  came  to  wallowing  around 
in  a  mud-puddle  with  his  brand  new  hunting 
clothes  on,  he  beefed  for  fair.  Moses! 
How  he  cussed! 

"Then  old  Rip  raised  the  rifle  again,  and 
there  was  a  bad  light  in  his  old  eyes.  I 
can't  give  you  no  idea  of  the  satisfaction  he 
expressed  as  he  simply  repeated  the  one  word, 
'swim!' 

"Brother  Falk  ground  his  teeth  till  the  sliv- 
ers flew;  Rip  moved  his  forefinger.  That 
was  enough.  Into  the  mud,  ker-sock!  goes 
Falk,  and  the  slime  splashed  a  rod  around. 

"All  this  time  the  Injun  had  been  sort  of 
85 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

quiet  and  sneering,  but  now  he  entered  into 
the  spirit  of  the  thing.  He  capered  like  a 
school-boy.  'Leelah  ouashtay!'  He  hol- 
lered. 'Swim,  fish!  Kick,  fat  fish  I  Kick! 
Make  hand  go!  Make  head  go!  Make 
foot  go!  Wyupee!  Chantay  meatow  leelah 
ouashtayda!'  Then  he  took  to  spanking  Falk 
with  the  butt  of  the  rifle.  It  was  'a  animated 
scene,'  as  the  poet  says.  You  don't  often  get 
a  chance  to  see  a  two-hundred-and-twenty 
pound  bully  lying  on  his  stomach  in  a  mud- 
puddle  swimming  for  dear  life,  so  Steve  and 
me  made  the  most  of  it. 

"There  was  Falk  hooking  mud  like  a  rav- 
ing maniac — fountains  and  geysers  and  water- 
spouts of  mud — while  Rip  pranced  around 
him,  war-whooping  and  yelling,  and  laying 
it  on  to  him  with  the  rifle-butt  until  each 
crack  sounded  like  a  pistol-shot.  It  seldom 
falls  to  the  lot  of  man  or  boy  to  get  such  a 
thorough,  heartfelt,  soul-searching  spanking 

86 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

as  that  ugly  Dutchman  received.  My!  I 
could  feel  every  swat  clear  down  to  my  toes, 
and  there  isn't  a  shadow  of  doubt  in  my  mind 
that  Falk  did  too. 

"And  that  Injun  looked  so  comical  flying 
around  in  his  high  hat  and  specs  and  new 
clothes  and  canvas  shoes!  It  was  a  sight  to 
make  a  horse  laugh.  By  and  by  Steve 
couldn't  stand  it  and  he  roared  right  out. 
That  stopped  the  matinee.  Rip  looked  up  at 
us  and  grinned.  'I  got  openers,  this  pot,'  says 
he,  tapping  the  rifle.  Tlay  nice  game  with 
friend — stand  up,  big,  fat  fish.' 

"Well,  we  had  a  conniption  fit  when  Falk 
made  himself  perpendicular.  He  was  a 
sight!  If  there  ever  a  man  lived  whose  name 
ought  to  be  Mud,  'twas  Falk.  His  hair  was 
full  of  it;  his  face  was  gobbed  with  it,  and 
drops  of  it  fell  off  the  end  of  his  trickling 
Dutch  raww-tash.  To  say  nothing  of  them 
nice  new  clothes!  Steve  hollered,  and  I  hol- 

87 


TROLLEY.   FOLLY 

lered,  and  the  Injun  hollered.  We  more'n 
hollered;  we  rocked  on  our  heels  and  laid 
back  our  ears  and  screeched — Falk  looking 
from  one  to  the  other,  oozing  slough-juice  at 
every  vein,  and  wishing  he  had  been  buried 
young. 

"At  last  he  kind  of  whimpers  out,  'Well, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  now?' 

"  'Kika-lap!'  says  Rip,  'fly.' 

"And  Falk  flew,  like  a  little  bird;  up  the 
side  of  the  pot-hole,  over  the  coulee  and 
across  the  prairie — vanished,  vamoosed, 
faded,  gone  for  ever.  He  didn't  even  stop  to 
pack  his  clothes.  The  first  train  out  was  soon 
enough  for  him. 

"So  now  you  say  he's  fallen  into  a  bushel 
of  money,  and  has  a  fine  house,  and  drives 
his  trotters  in  New  York?  Well  I  By  gum! 
But  this  is  a  strange  world!  Why  couldn't 
some  decent  man  have  gotten  the  rocks?  I 
tell  you  what  we  ought  to  do;  we  ought  to 

88 


MASCOT   OF   THE   GRAYS 

take  a  nice  photograph  of  that  pot-hole,  of 
which  the  general  features  are  impressed  on 
his  memory  perfect  enough  not  to  need  no 
label,  I  guess,  and  send  it  on  to  him  with  the 
compliments  of  Bloody-Ripping-Thunder, 
for  him  to  hang  as  the  principal  ornament 
in  his  art  gallery!  Old  Falk  a  millionaire! 
Well,  wouldn't  that  cramp  you!  I've  got  to 
have  something  to  take  the  taste  of  that  out  of 
my  mouth.  Yes,  the  same,  Jimmy,  with 
plain  water  on  the  side.  Well,  here's  luck, 
young  feller,  even  to  old  Falk!" 


89 


IV 

THE  LITTLE  CANOE 

ITS    INTRODUCTION    AND    DESTRUCTION 
AT  PORTO  RICO 

friend  the  Senor  Don  is  of  a  precise 
and  military  bearing,  clad  with  a  dig- 
nity that  enhances  his  scant  five  feet  of  stature 
to  herculean  proportions.  He  is  a  handsome 
little  man  with  pompadour  hair  and  a  bold 
"Wilhelm  der  Kaiser"  mustache.  His  speech 
is  exact,  somewhat  cold,  yet  with  a  flavor  of 
melancholy  to  it,  like  the  style  of  Thackeray. 
When  he  expresses  himself  in  English,  it  is 
with  seriousness,  that  seriousness  which  marks 
all  his  enterprises,  but  it  is  with  some  honest 
mistakes  concerning  the  language  as  a  whole. 
A  fine  love  for  our  free  institutions  is  also 

90 


THE   LITTLE   CANOE 

characteristic  of  the  Sefior  Don.  I  can  not 
tell  you  how  his  sad  story  of  the  little  canoe 
affects  me.  I  may  only  try. 

"When  I  am  to  mek  retoorn  to  Puerto 
Rico,  Hooaleece"  (which  is  part  of  my  name 
on  the  Spanish  tongue),  said  he,  "I  have  bear 
in  my  mind  the  indolence  of  those  people. 
Not  like  that  roogged  American  who  enjoy 
the  manly  art  of  boxing  the  eye  of  hees  f  rien', 
or  to  mek  strong  resistance  on  the  field  of  the 
ball  of  the  foot,  or  splash  t'rough  the  water 
in  aquatic  spooorts.  No,  hombre!  Not 
sooch  do  they  mek  in  Puerto  Rico.  Nuzzing 
more  rrrrobust  than  to  smoke  cigarillos  and  to 
drink  chocolatay,  and  I  say,  Thees  ees  the  end 
of  these  people.  What  manner  of  civilizas- 
syone  will  mek  the  drinking  of  chocolatay 
and  the  perpetual  smoking  of  cigarillos? 
That  of  the  conqueror?  No.  That  of  the 
arts?  No.  That  of-  what,  then?  That  of 
nuzzing. 

91 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

"Well,  what  then?  I  say,  I  shall  to  mis- 
sionary these  people.  To  them  I  shall  intro- 
duce the  can-ooo  American.  It  ees  a  begin- 
ning. Bimeby  the  boxing-glove,  the  ball  of 
the  foot,  the  base-ball,  but  gradooally — poco 
a  poco.  At  first  the  can-ooo.  There  it  ees  to 
sit  still,  after  the  manner  of  Puerto  Rico,  be- 
cows,  if  you  are  not  to  sit  with  precceesion, 
that  can-ooo  will  to  set  up,  and  some  man 
must  fish  you.  I  buy  can-ooo.  I  have  it 
transport  at  mooch  expense.  I  veesit  Senor 
Cordova  at  hees  home  upon  the  sea,  and  there 
also  has  arrrrrived  my  little  can-ooo. 

"  'Ah !'  says  the  senor,  'what  ees  thees  leetle 
bo-at?  Eet  ees  very  pretty!' 

"  'Eet  ees  can-ooo  American,'  I  tell  heem. 
(You  pull  eet  with  thees  stick.  Eet  ees  at 
your  disposal.  Will  you  not  make  essay  at 
eet?'  (Buen,'  says  Senor  Cordova;  'where  to 
put  the  foot?1 


THE   LITTLE   CANOE 

"I  am  to  tell  heem,  but  he  waits  not  for  re- 
ply, putting  the  foot  oopon  the  edge.  Een- 
stantly  that  can-ooo  make  revolution,  pre- 
ceepeetating  Senor  Cordova  eento  the  ocean. 
Ah,  what  confusion!  What  disturbance! 
How  mooch  different  from  America!  There, 
when  I  have  to  overthrow  myself  in  that  can- 
ooo,  the  hardy  cour-rrage  of  those  people  mek 
them  to  cry,  'Ha,  ha,  goood  eye!  Pool  for 
the  shore!'  But  now!  Senora  Cordova  and 
Senoritas  Cordova  three  mek  lamentable  out- 
cry, Tapa  is  to  drown!'  And  those  naygrose 
which  are  there  run  around  like  stoopeed  fel- 
lows. Eet  ees  to  me  that  the  responseebeelity 
falls  that  my  friend  Cordova  do  not  perish. 
There  he  ees,  pushing  the  water  with  hees 
hands,  and  speaking  as  one  should  not  be- 
fore ladies. 

"What  to  do?  I  can  reach  heem  with  my 
arm,  but  that  ees  not  nautical.  I  have 

93 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

by  the — the — como  se  llaman  thees  pole  with 
the  iron?  Ah,  bo-at-hoook!  si,  si,  si!  The 
bo-at-hoook,  and  by  that  I  hook  heem. 

"'A  Dios!'  he  cry,  'I  am  assassinated  1' 

"  'Be  still,  foolish  person!'  I  say.  'Is  not 
your  life  to  be  saved?' 

"  'Si,'  he  say.  'Tiene  usted  razon,  but  I 
shall  walk.'  So  he  place  his  legs  upon  the 
ground  beneath  the  water,  which  is  not  ex- 
tensive in  that  place,  and  coom  to  shore. 

"  'Will  you  try  heem  again?'  I  say. 

"  'Causa  admiracion!'  he  say,  'I  theenk  not. 
No  se  the  habeets  of  the  little  can-ooo.' 

"So  he  send  a  naygro  for  stimulant,  the 
which  I  eembibe,  while  he  mek  change  of 
hees  attire  at  hees  house. 

"When  he  has  returned  he  say  to  me :  'Let 
us  behold  you  master  thees  bo-at  of  eensta- 
beelity.  Can  you  mek  heem  go?' 

"By  thees  time  those  stimulant  have  made 
my  heart  strong,  my  cour-rrage  severe.  Am 

94 


THE   LITTLE   CANOE 

I  not  American  citizen?    What  ees  eet?     I 
tell  heem  that  moment: 

"  'I  can  pool  eet  with  the  stick;  I  can  put 
in  the  sail  and  fly  over  the  water  like  a  sheep. 
Do  you  wish  to  see?' 

"All  the  ladies  and  Senor  Cordova  cry  out 
they  will  not  let  me  be  so  dangerous.  But  I 
am  resolved.  Senorita  Margarita  Cordova  is 
a  yoong  lady  ver-ree  beautiful.  I  am  an 
American  citizen.  I  tek  anuzzer  glass  of 
aguardiente — brandee.  What  do  I  care  for 
one  can-ooo?  Two?  Three?  I  send  the 
naygro  for  the  sail  in  a  steady  voice:  'Pepe, 
go  at  once  and  get  the  sail.' 

"Senor  Cordova  says  he  will  resist,  but  I 
pay  no  attencion.  I  place  the  pole;  I  feex 
the  strings;  I  adjoost  the  ruddle;  I  put  een 
three  large  stone  for  ballass. 

"  'Once  more,'  say  the  ladies,  'let  us  in- 
treat— ' 

"  'At  your  feet,  ladies,'  I  say,  'but  I  go!' 
95 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

"So  I  go,  and  then  for  the  first  eet  is  pleas- 
ant: the  weend  blow  carefully;  the  little  can- 
ooo  jump  oopon  the  water.  But  now  there 
comes  a  large  cloud.  The  weend  he  blow  not 
so  carefully.  I  am  far  from  home.  On  the 
shore,  Senor  Cordova  and  hees  ladies  make 
observacion  with  a  telescope.  It  is  sad,  I 
think,  that  they  can  see  me  so  plain,  yet  am  I 
upon  thees  stormy  ocean.  Of  what  avail  is 
the  telescope,  if  I  am  to  shipwreck  the  can- 
ooo?  Ah!  I  would  not  at  that  time  that  I 
had  the  ancestors  of  so  cour-rrageous.  Eet 
ees  one  of  them  who  make  Rolando  see  hees 
feeneesh.  Out  oopon  these  violent  water  I 
am  cara  a  cara  with  the  ma'neefeecent  past. 
Shall  I  to  turn  the  back  upon  the  perilous? 
Die,  then,  the  thought!  Beside,  that  moment 
may  the  Senorita  Margarita  be  with  the  beau- 
tiful eye  at  the  telescope.  So  I  am  gay;  I 
smile,  as  though  I  mek  enjoyment  of  the  ter- 
rrible  bouncing  of  that  little  can-ooo ;  I  sing 

96 


THE   LITTLE   CANOE 

areea  from  Fra  Diavolo — ti-ti-tee-tum-te- 
tee!  But  at  heart  I  regret  mooch.  What  is 
a  can-ooo,  for  the  most?  Eet  ees  not  so 
strong  as  paper;  eet  ees  a  small,  little  boat 
that  thees  wave  who  shake  hees  teeth  at  me 
may  devour  at  a  bite.  And  then,  alas!  comes 
in  a  wave — ta!  Ah,  veree  cold!  Veree 
damp !  With  my  hat  I  mek  attempt  to  hurl 
the  water  outdoors.  Comes  another  wave — 
another.  I  labor  desperate ;  eet  weel  not  do. 
Eet  ees  not  enough.  The  can-ooo  is  sinking. 
Bimeby  I  am  to  sit  in  the  water.  It  happen. 
Then  I  am  to  clasp  the  can-ooo  with  my  arm, 
for  in  the  both  end  of  eet  exists  an  air-tink — 
a  box  made  of  iron  which  hold  the  air,  that 
the  can-ooo  may  remain  upon  the  water. 

"The  stern  of  that  can-ooo  go  down  first; 
glides  the  large  rocks  for  ballass  to  where  I 
am  sitting.  Thees  I  am  to  t'row  out.  Pah! 
When  I  bend  to  catch  heem,  comes  a  large 
wave  right  down  my  neck. 

97 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

"There  am  I,  then,  clasping  that  can-ooo 
passionately,  only  hees  end  sticking  up  from 
the  water.  Those  large  stone  hold  the  other 
end  downright. 

"At  once  I  think,  'Cordova  shall  survey 
t'rough  hees  telescope,  and  send  to  me  assist- 
ance.' But  on  the  second  thought  I  see  eet 
ees  not  to  be.  I  have  mek  sooch  large  talk  of 
what  I  may  do  with  that  can-ooo  that  Cordova 
shall  think:  'Thees  ees  novelty  American. 
My  friend  shows  me  all!  What  devils  are 
thees  Americans,  to  swim  in  a  boat  standing 
oop  in  the  water?  Who  shall  presentiment 
their  leemitaciones?'  And  he  shall  call  hees 
neighbors  to  see  the  es-pectacle.  Everybody 
shall  come  and  remark,  'Ah!  Meeracoolous!' 
and  shake  hees  head. 

"When  I  think  that,  I  am  almost  to  weep. 
My  friends  to  see  me  fish  for  fish  with  myself 
before  their  eyes!  Behold  the  beautiful  Mar- 
garita! Will  it  not  to  melanchate  her  days 

98 


THE   LITTLE   CANOE 

of  youth  to  rrrremember,  'Through  a  tele- 
scope I  saw  my  dear  friend  dissolve  een  the 
water?'  Sad,  thees.  Well,  then,  eet  ees  un- 
avoiadabble.  So  to  mek  en  end  manful — 
strong.  Therefore  I  smile  again.  But  that 
smile  he  take  all  my  strength.  I  wish  not  to 
show  disrespec'  for  thees  so  noble  country,  yet 
eet  ees  the  coostom  for  to  mek  the  dollar.  On 
that  account  some  work  is  not  so  well  done. 
That  air-tink,  on  which  depend  my  life,  he 
leak.  The  can-ooo  ees  sinking,  sinking.  My 
ear  against  hees  side,  I  can  hear  that  little 
noise — shhhh! — where  the  water  run  in  and 
the  air  run  out.  Eet  ees  the  hour-glass  mark- 
ing how  long  I  shall  remain  een  the  country. 
When  he  feel  oop — pop!  A  Dios,  el  mundo! 
"And  eet  ees  so  slow!  I  am  of  eempatient 
deesposeecion.  With  the  long  waiting  I  am 
not  simpatico.  I  look  how  fast  the  water 
come  up  on  that  can-ooo,  and  I  esteemate  that 
I  have  to  sit  in  those  cold  water  for  five  hours. 

99 


TROLLEY  FOLLY. 

And  my  friends  observe  t' rough  the  telescope! 
Misericordia!  Eet  ees  too  dam  mooch!  For 
five  hours  must  I  smile  and  sink! 

"And  when  I  think  that  Cordova  shall  say, 
'Ah,  but  he  ees  not  eenteresting,  thees  fellow ! 
Eet  ees  a  pairformance  monotonoose  to  sit 
there  in  the  water!  He  ees  not  really  an 
American!  Not  sooch  do  they,  I  give  my 
word!'  then  I  geenash  my  tooth,  and  I  shall 
to  tear  my  hair,  but  how  may  I  unclasp  that 
little  can-ooo? 

"Now,  to  any  man  thees  would  seem  suffee- 
cent — a  meesery  plenty  for  the  heart  to  hold. 
Yet  listen!  Here  am  I,  three  miles  from 
shore  in  the  stormy  ocean,  grasping  a  sinking 
can-ooo,  while  eet  ees  necessary  that  I  seem 
to  enjoy  myself,  to  compensate  my  friends 
who  witness  t' rough  the  telescope — ees  eet  not 
the  leemit?  Hear  me!  Now  comes  the 
shark!  Madre  de  Dios!  How  shall  I  now 
perform?  Shall  I  make  a  great  splash  with 

100 


THE   LITTLE   CANOE 

my  feet  to  enfrighten  that  wrrretched  repteel 
away? 

"And  Margarita  mek  observation  of  me  in 
the  actions  of  the  little  playful  child.  Ah, 
my  heart  shall  burst!  In  her  eyes  to  become 
reediculous!  Si,  yet  here  comes  the  shark  to 
bite  me  by  the  leg.  To  splash  eet  ees  reedic- 
ulous, but  what  can  be  so  mooch  reediculous 
as  a  man  without  some  legs?  Eet  ees  time  I 
splash.  Vigorosely  I  the  water  spatter.  The 
shark,  that  cowardly  insect,  run  away — only 
to  get  hees  friends.  Around  me  they  circu- 
late, each  one  putting  oopon  me  the  obstruc- 
tion of  hees  cold,  unfeeling  eye.  And  it  rains. 
In  the  air  ees  water!  in  the  ocean  ees  water; 
in  the  water  ees  sharks.  I  am  tire  of  water; 
I  regret  that  I  have  not  brought  the  ball  of 
the  foot  or  the  boxer-glove  to  eenvigorate 
thees  island. 

"I  am  think  to  be  missionary;  I  am  become 
martyr.     One  consolacion  I  obtain.    The  rain 

101 


TROLLEY.   FOLLY 

eet  has  obscured  the  view.  From  the  shore 
they  can  not  see.  I  am  to  smile  no  longer. 
That  ees  joy.  A  little  joy,  not  too  mooch,  for 
now  ees  but  a  trifle  of  that  can-ooo  left  ele- 
vated over  the  water,  and  I  am  fatigue  with 
splashing.  I  am  deciding  shall  I  omit  to 
splash,  and  thus  allow  thees  beeest  of  shark 
to  bite  me  queeck,  or  shall  I  to  drown,  when 
— ta!  A  hand  on  the  stern  of  my  t'roat,  and 
a  voice  t'rough  the  nose,  a  voice  so  beautiful, 
a  voice  American,  saying  (eef  you  pairmeet 
eemeetacion) ,  'Hallo,  bosss !  Do  yer  cum  out 
here  for  thees  exercise  ewereee  Saturday?' 
and  I  am  lift  into  a  boat. 

"So  they  tek  me  to  Cordova.  My  clothes 
he  ees  shorten  by  the  water;  also  hees  color 
ees  not  all  in  the  same  place  as  when  I  mek 
purchase  of  heem.  He  ees  the  flannel  clothes 
with  the  rrred,  white,  and  blue  straps.  Now 
he  ees  the  rainbow,  and  from  the  hat  has  come 
color  to  my  nose,  to  my  cheeek. 

102 


THE   LITTLE   CANOE 

"I  land  calm,  coompossed — eet  ees  like  I 
have  made  the  same  each  day.  Cordova  he  ees 
perplex;  the  ladies  they  know  not  what  to  say. 

"  'Have  you  petroleum?'  I  ask  Cordova. 

"He  mek  reply,  'Yes,  I  have.' 

"  'Of  your  kindness,  obtain  me  some,'  I  say 
and  retire  unto  the  house. 

"When  I  retoorn,  the  old  clothes  repose 
upon  my  arm;  I  smoke  the  cigarillo.  With 
the  cold  blood  I  walk  to  that  can-ooo.  I  poot 
the  old  clothes  upon  heem.  With  the  petrol 
I  es-sprinkle  all.  I  strike  the  match,  first  to 
light  the  cigarillo — then  so  carelessly,  I  light 
the  little  can-ooo. 

"  'Pardon,'  I  say.     'Coostom  American.' 

"The  ladies  all  cry,  'Ah!'  and  Cordova  he 
knock  hees  feest  with  hees  head  and  mek  out- 
cry :  'Ah !  What  devils  are  thees  Americanos ! 
What  care  they  for  expense!' 

"So  I  am  veen-dickateed.  And  that  end 
my  little  can-ooo." 

103 


v 

THE  REVERSE  OF  A  MEDAL 

AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  MAKING  OF  MARY 
ELLEN'S  HERO 

A/TARY    ELLEN    DARRAGH    was    a 

^  strange  girl.  Her  life  may  have  had 
something  to  do  with  that.  Left  fatherless  at 
sixteen,  with  a  mother  and  three  little  Dar- 
raghs  on  her  hands,  she  at  once  jumped  into 
the  breach,  which  in  this  case  was  the 
breeches,  and  by  the  use  of  good  taste,  a 
ready  tongue,  pleasant  manners  and  plenty  of 
hard  work,  performed  her  stint  so  well  that 
now,  at  two-and-twenty,  she  was  sole  pro- 
prietor of  a  millinery  establishment  which 
employed  four  girls  besides  herself.  Car- 
riage-folk came  to  the  door  of  Mary  Ellen's 
establishment,  she  was  so  good — and  so  cheap. 
Mary  Ellen  was  born  with  both  gray  eyes 
104 


EEVEESE   OF   A   MEDAL 

wide  open;  she  absorbed  the  deportment  of 
the  ladies  of  her  clientele  with  the  unfailing 
surety  of  grasp  that  made  her  a  success.  She 
had  the  "business"  of  polite  intercourse  down 
as  fine  as  the  most  pronouncedly  mannered  of 
her  patrons — even  to  the  English.  The  ob- 
jective case  received  all  that  was  due  it  from 
Mary  Ellen  when  she  had  "her  airs  on,"  as 
her  detractors  put  it.  Now,  these  were  no 
airs;  they  were  the  girl's  standard.  More 
than  the  tilt  of  the  head  and  a  shade  of  the 
voice  were  in  them.  There  was  the  hope  of 
something  above  the  buying  and  selling,  and 
wheedling  of  cross-grained  customers. 

Yet  the  effect  on  her  acquaintances  was  bad. 
They  thought  it  buncombe,  and  although 
Mary  Ellen  was  trim,  pretty  and  stylish,  she 
had  never  kept  company  with  any  young  man 
until  Fireman  Carter  appeared  on  the  scene. 
Other  young  men  had  come,  seen  and  left,  say- 
ing that  kind  of  gait  was  too  swift  for  them. 

105 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

Mary  Ellen  wanted  to  sit  at  a  reasonable  dis- 
tance from  her  caller  and  converse.  It  must 
be  added  that  Mary  Ellen's  conversational 
powers  were  limited — there  was  a  measure  of 
justification  in  the  course  of  the  young 
men. 

However,  Fireman  Carter  was  of  another 
breed.  He,  too,  had  inner  aspirations  toward 
gentility.  Let  me  at  once  confute  any  suspi- 
cion that  Dick  Carter  was  snob  or  prig.  By 
no  means.  Indeed,  in  his  effort  not  to  be  su- 
perior he  sometimes  exceeded  the  most  un- 
gentle actions  of  his  companions.  The  war 
between  his  inner  monitor  and  his  desire  to  be 
rated  a  good  fellow  played  havoc  with  Dick's 
peace  of  mind.  When  he  first  put  his  cap  un- 
der the  sofa  in  Mary  Ellen's  little  parlor  he 
recognized  a  quality  in  his  hostess  for  which 
he  long  had  yearned.  For  one  thing,  he  had 
an  opportunity  to  hold  forth  at  length  on  that 
subject  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  man — himself. 

106 


Mary  Ellen  was  trim,  pretty  and  stylish.     Page  105 


REVERSE   OF   A   MEDAL 

Mary  Ellen  was  smitten  at  first  sight,  and 
why  not?  A  mighty  agreeable  picture  of 
young  manhood  was  Fireman  Carter:  thin, 
clean,  dark,  handsome  in  face ;  tall,  strong  and 
supple  in  body;  alert  and  ready  in  mind;  an 
ideal  type  of  the  finest  corps  of  men  in  the 
world,  the  firemen.  He  looked  especially  dis- 
tinguished in  his  uniform.  So  Mary  Ellen 
listened  to  the  song  of  Richard  Carter. 
Again  I  must  interfere.  Dick  didn't  blow 
and  bluster  about  his  prowess;  he  merely  took 
out  his  soul  and  explained  its  works  to  Mary 
Ellen.  He  left  that  night  feeling  he  was  un- 
derstood at  last.  And  he  went  again  every 
time  he  had  a  chance. 

Mrs.  Darragh,  worthy  old  lady,  chape- 
roned the  visits,  an  acquired  idea  of  Mary 
Ellen's.  She  enjoyed  her  evening  nap  in 
the  parlor  almost  as  much  as  the  young  folk 
did  their  discussions.  Little  she  was  needed ; 
Dick  appreciated  his  lady's  dignity  too  much 

107 


TROLLEY  FOLLY. 

to  do  aught  to  invalidate  it.  In  fact,  he 
studied  for  those  evenings,  reading  up  by 
stealth  and  artfully  leading  the  talk  to  the  sub- 
ject on  which  he  was  prepared,  and  then  it 
would  do  your  heart  good  to  see  Fireman  Car- 
ter, with  extended  hand  explaining  the  primal 
causes  of  things,  to  Mary  Ellen's  cooing  obli- 
gato  of  admiration.  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
was  a  poor  fool  to  Dick  Carter,  in  one  person's 
estimation. 

This  was  all  very  well,  but  Mary  Ellen,  like 
most  young  women  in  love,  would  have  liked 
a  more  forceful  demonstration  of  her  idol's  re- 
gard. She  understood  at  last  why  her  friends 
preferred  action  to  conversation.  This  long- 
distance courtship  might  have  been  fatal  to 
another  man  than  handsome,  daredevil  Dick; 
as  it  was  it  added  a  piquancy;  but  it  made 
trouble,  nevertheless,  and  here's  how  that 
came. 

Under  the  softening  influence  of  Mary  El- 
108 


REVERSE   OF  A   MEDAL 

len's  eyes  Carter  had  grown  an  intimacy  with 
a  man  of  his  company  by  the  name  of  Holtzer. 
Holtzer  was  German  by  parentage  and  senti- 
mental by  nature.  Especially  did  Holtzer 
deplore  the  fact  that  he  knew  no  nice  young 
women — those  who  liked  music  and  poetry. 
Dick  gave  him  a  "knock-down"  to  Mary 
Ellen,  and  Holtzer  also  became  a  constant  vis- 
itor. The  fact  that  it  is  bad  policy  to  intro- 
duce one's  best  friend  to  one's  best  girl  can  be 
proved  either  by  cold  reasoning  or  by  experi- 
ence. Carter  tried  experience.  You  see,  he 
would  acknowledge  to  no  emotional  interest 
in  Mary  Ellen  when  questioned  by  Holtzer — 
he  scouted  the  idea — so  Holtzer  wasn't  to 
blame. 

As  for  Mary  Ellen,  Cupid  had  pounded 
her  heart  into  a  jelly.  She  was  tender  to 
Dick's  friend  to  a  degree  that  put  the  none 
too  modest  German  in  possession  of  facts 
that  were  not  so.  All  the  overflow  of  regard 

109 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

he  received  as  Dick's  friend  he  attributed  to 
his  own  personal  charms,  and,  unlike  Carter, 
he  didn't  hesitate  to  talk  about  it.  It  was  Car- 
ter's pleasant  duty  to  listen  to  Holtzer's  joyful 
expounding  of  the  reasons  why  the  latter  felt 
he  had  made  a  hit  with  Mary  Ellen,  and  not 
only  to  listen,  but  to  indorse.  It  shows  the 
stuff  Fireman  Carter  was  made  of  to  tell  that 
he  stood  this  vicious  compound  of  insult  and 
injury  with  a  tranquil  face.  The  serpent  had 
entered  Eden,  and  utilized  Adam  to  support 
his  position,  but  Adam  smiled  and  took  his 
medicine  like  a  man. 

Several  times  he  intended  to  question  Mary 
Ellen  concerning  Holtzer,  yet  when  in  her 
presence  a  certain  feeling  of  surety  and  a  very 
big  slice  of  pride  forbade  it. 

In  the  meantime  he  was  regaled  with  Mary 
Ellen,  per  Holtzer,  until  violent  thoughts  en- 
tered his  mind. 

Dick  yearned  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  to 
110 


REVERSE   OF  A   MEDAL 

do  something  heroic.  He  sweated  to  stand 
out  the  one  man  of  the  day;  to  be  held  up 
to  the  public  gaze  on  the  powerful  pen  of  the 
reporter.  He  wanted  to  swagger  into  Mary 
Ellen's  little  parlor  covered  and  rustling  with 
metaphorical  wreaths,  and  with  an  actual  disk 
of  engraved  metal  on  his  broad  chest,  and  thus 
extinguish  Holtzer  beyond  doubt — not  Car- 
ter's doubt,  nor  Mary  Ellen's  doubt,  but  Holt- 
zer's  doubt. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  he  went  to  sleep  one 
night,  to  be  awakened  in  the  early  hours  of  the 
morning  by  a  singular  prescience  born  of  long 
experience,  which  told  him  the  gong  was 
about  to  ring.  For  years  the  alarm  had  not 
wakened  Dick.  No  matter  how  deep  his 
slumber,  he  was  always  alert  and  strained  to 
catch  the  first  note  of  it. 

The  metallic  cry  for  help  vibrated  through 
the  engine-house.  It  threw  each  inmate  into 
action,  like  an  electric  shock.  The  dark  win- 
Ill 


TROLLEY.  FOLLY, 

ter  morning  was  savagely  cold,  with  a  wind 
like  an  auger.  The  heroic  cord  was  busted. 
"Damn  the  luck!"  cried  Dick  as  he  took  the 
pole ;  and  it  was  no  solo. 

The  two  most  picturesque  feats  of  civiliza- 
tion are  the  handling  of  a  field-piece  and  the 
charge  of  a  fire-engine.  Very  fine  was  the 
old-time  chariot  race,  but  what  was  the  driv- 
er's risk  on  the  smooth  hippodrome  track 
compared  to  that  of  the  man  who  guides  a  fire- 
engine  through  city  streets?  The  chariot 
driver  could,  at  least,  see  what  was  before 
him ;  the  man  who  holds  the  lines  on  an  engine 
little  knows  what's  around  the  corner.  But 
it's  a  tale  told  too  often  already.  A  rush,  a 
clamor  of  hoofs,  a  roar,  and  they  were  rattling 
over  the  pavement,  the  stream  of  sparks  from 
the  engine  stack  and  the  constant  lightnings 
from  the  horses'  shoes  making  one  think  of  the 
old  adage  of  fighting  fire  with  fire. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Dick,  clinging  tightly 
112 


REVERSE   OF   A   MEDAL 

with  one  hand  and  waving  the  other  in  wild 
circles  as  he  got  into  his  coat — "I  suppose 
some  old  lady  has  left  the  cat  to  play  with  the 
lamp." 

"Yah,"  assented  Holtzer,  "or  else  some 
Mick  has  taken  his  pipe  to  bed  with  him." 

Then  they  cursed  the  old  lady  and  the  Mick 
or  whoever  it  might  be. 

"The  worst  of  it  is  that  I'm  scart  now,"  con- 
fided Holtzer.  "I  didn't  ust  to  care  much,  ex- 
cept for  the  trouble,  but  now,  when  I  think  of 
Mary  Ellen,  I  hate  to  go  shinning  around  tak- 
ing chances." 

General  Bonaparte,  the  worst-mannered 
conqueror  in  history,  said  that  no  man  was 
courageous  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  an 
unmerited  slight  to  the  vanity  of  his  soldiery. 
However  it  may  be  as  to  courage,  certainly 
no  man  was  ever  philosophical  when  hauled 
from  his  bed  at  that  hour.  It  was  in  Fire- 
man Carter's  mind  that  a  small  movement  of 

113 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

his  foot  would  put  his  erstwhile  friend  in  vio- 
lent contact  with  the  cold  world  below. 
However,  civilization  isn't  impotent.  He  re- 
strained the  action  and  replied:  "You  want 
to  leave  your  girl  at  home — fires  is  no  place 
for  'em." 

"You  don't  understand,"  retorted  Holtzer, 
full  of  sentiment.  "You  can't  get  away  from 
it.  It  ain't  thinking  what's  going  to  happen 
to  me,  so  much,  as  thinking  how  Mary  Ellen 
will  feel  about  it  when  she  hears." 

"You're  awful  dead  certain  on  that  part  of 
it,"  said  Dick,  and  now  he  hated  his  friend. 
The  last  vestige  of  humor  had  left  the  theme. 
"Perhaps  she  won't  care  a  cuss — how  do  you 
know?" 

Holtzer  started  to  answer,  while  Dick  lis- 
tened, his  hands  clenched  tight — maybe  there 
was  something  he  didn't  know  about? 

There  was  no  more  time  for  conversation. 
114 


REVERSE   OF   A   MEDAL 

As  they  turned  the  corner  they  saw  their  des- 
tination, an  eight-storied  storage  warehouse, 
standing  alone,  with  boarded  vacant  lots  at 
each  side  of  it. 

The  watchman  was  there  with  the  keys;  it 
was  he  who  had  turned  in  the  alarm.  With- 
out delay  the  firemen,  hauling  the  hose  up 
after  them,  swarmed  to  the  roof  where  the 
flames  were  beginning  to  curl. 

The  fire  was  in  the  back  of  the  upper  story. 
While  some  fought  it  on  that  level,  the  others 
cut  holes  through  the  roof  and  turned  the 
streams  down  upon  it. 

The  hose  leaked  and  slippery  ponds  formed 
in  an  instant  where  the  water  fell.  The  wind 
sawed  into  one's  marrow  in  this  utterly  ex- 
posed position. 

A  head  popped  up  and  called  off  all  the 
men  but  Holtzer  and  Dick. 

"You  fellers  hold  her  down  as  best  you 
115 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

can!"  it  shouted.  "Keep  a  watch  and  don't 
let  it  break  through — come  on,  the  rest  of 
yer!"  :. 

They  worked  in  silence  on  Dick's  part,  and 
with  a  continued  rattle  of  what  Mary  Ellen 
would  think  of  this  from  Holtzer.  It 
wrought  harder  and  harder  on  his  compan- 
ion's nerves,  this  prattle — indeed,  such  waves 
of  rage  came  over  him  that  he  entirely  for- 
got where  he  was. 

Meanwhile  the  crowd  below — gathered  in 
strong  numbers  in  spite  of  the  weather  and 
the  hour — were  wondering  what  must  be  the 
thoughts  of  those  men  standing  over  a  furnace, 
a  hundred  feet  from  the  ground.  What 
could  either  man  think  of  but  the  danger? 
The  danger  of  one's  daily  work?  There  is  no 
such  thing. 

This  was  a  commonplace  fire  which  soon 
would  be  well  in  hand.  It  had  not  in  the 
least  turned  the  current  of  the  thoughts  of  the 

116 


REVERSE   OF   A   MEDAL 

two  men  aloft  who  formed  the  spectacle,  while 
the  household  gods  below  made  burnt-offer- 
ings of  themselves.  Then,  as  if  to  show  that 
no  fire  is  commonplace,  a  giant  flare  sprang 
from  the  corner  of  the  building,  poised  in  the 
air  for  a  moment,  then,  overthrown  by  the 
wind,  toppled  toward  the  firemen.  They 
leaped  back — one  to  safety;  the  other,  slipping 
on  a  treacherous  skin  of  ice,  to  fight  vainly  for 
his  balance  for  a  second,  and  then  to  plunge 
down  the  mansard  roof,  speeding  for  that 
hard  ground  so  far  away.  It  was  a  trained 
man  who  fell,  though.  He  turned  as  he  went, 
instinctively  gripping  with  his  hands,  and 
they  caught — the  edge  of  the  cornice — an  ice- 
covered  edge  to  which  they  clung  miracu- 
lously, while  his  body  dangled  in  the  wind. 

So  Dick,  safe,  looked  down  at  Holtzer,  for 
whom  it  was  a  question  of  seconds,  while  the 
roar  of  pity  from  the  crowd  buzzed  in  his 
ears. 

117 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

He  might  well  have  done  nothing.  No 
man  could  go  down  the  steep  slant  unsup- 
ported. Nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  Holtzer 
but  his  hands,  lighted  by  the  flames;  hands 
that  could  not  clench  even,  as  to  grip  would  be 
to  force  loose,  but  which  could  only  make  stiff 
angles  of  themselves.  It  would  all  be  over  in 
ten  heart-beats,  for  to  take  it  as  we  are  doing 
is  like  examining  the  moving  pictures  one  by 
one  at  leisure,  instead  of  as  they  live  upon  the 
screen. 

Then  Dick  moved.  He  ripped  off  his  coat, 
soaked  the  arm  of  it  in  the  hose  stream, 
pressed  it  to  the  roof,  where  it  froze  fast  on 
touching,  and  slid  down  his  improvised  cloth 
ladder,  held  only  by  the  strength  of  the  ice- 
film  that  bound  the  sleeve  to  the  tin. 

Before  his  frantic  fellow-firemen  below 
could  scale  the  fence  with  the  jumping-sheet 
he  had  hold  of  Holtzer's  wrist  with  one  strong 
hand.  The  strain  was  terrible;  he  felt  the 

118 


REVERSE   OF   A   MEDAL 

coat  yield  with  a  soft,  tearing  sound,  his  head 
spun,  yet  somehow  he  managed  it,  and  there 
they  stood  on  the  cornice  together. 

Then,  while  the  crowd  that  had  been  as  si- 
lent as  death  cracked  their  throats  with  ap- 
plause, Dick  spoke  to  Holtzer  on  a  private 
matter. 

It  so  happened  that  a  young  man  who  did 
"space"  for  a  morning  paper  lived  on  the  top 
floor  of  the  flat-house  opposite,  and  saw  the 
whole  thing  through  an  opera-glass.  He 
hustled  into  his  clothes  and  got  down  to  the 
street,  working  a  talk  out  of  Dick  by  the  plea 
that  he  needed  the  money. 

The  reporter  was  delighted.  The  incident 
had  the  two  elements  of  daring  and  mother- 
wit  that  can  be  made  into  the  long  story  of 
profit. 

"How  did  you  ever  come  to  think  of  using 
your  coat  like  that?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  a  feller  I  knew  when  I  was  a  kid  in 
119 


TROLLEY.   FOLLY 

the  country  saved  himself  from  drownding 
that  way,"  replied  Carter.  "He  fell  through 
the  ice  miles  from  anybody,  and  if  he  hadn't 
froze  the  end  of  his  muffler  fast,  and  so  an- 
chored himself,  he'd  'a'  been  a  gone  gosling 
all  right.  That  thing  come  back  to  me  on  the 
minute." 

That  is  why  the  first  thing  Fireman  Carter 
saw  in  his  morning  paper  was  his  own  name. 
He  started  guiltily  at  the  sight  and  threw  the 
sheet  away.  No  maiden  caught  en  deshabille 
could  have  been  more  abashed;  and,  as  the 
maiden  afterward  might  wonder  how  she  did 
look — was  it  so  very  awful? — so  did  Dick. 
He  picked  the  paper  up  again  stealthily  and 
read  all  about  it,  lost  in  wonder  at  the  end. 
To  the  applause  that  came  his  way  he  turned 
an  inattentive  ear,  thus  giving  further  life  to 
the  old  idea  that  the  bravest  are  always  the 
most  modest,  which  looks  like  a  double  super- 
lative and  is  no  more  true  than  that  they  are 

120 


REVERSE   OF  A   MEDAL 

always  the  fattest,  or  anything  else.  The 
bravest  are  usually  the  most  courageous,  and 
there  ends  deduction.  Dick  was  busy  with  his 
own  thoughts — something  troubled  him.  A 
strange  thing  was  the  fact  that  though  his 
friend  Holtzer  scrupulously  gave  him  every 
credit  he  did  not  seek  his  society. 

The  frown  of  hard  thinking  was  on  Dick's 
brow  all  day.  At  night  he  asked  for  a  few 
hours  off  and  got  them. 

Mary  Ellen  met  him  at  the  door.  "Oh, 
Dick!"  she  cried  and  gulped.  "Ain't  you  just 
grand,  though!"  she  said,  and  looked  at  him 
with  beatified  gray  eyes. 

Here  was  golden  opportunity.  The  proper 
play  for  Fireman  Carter  was  to  reach  out  his 
strong  arms  and  gather  Mary  Ellen  then  and 
there,  but  he  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He 
seemed  distrait  and  worried. 

To  her  anxiety,  he  seated  himself  on  the  sofa 
and  fumbled  his  hat. 

121 


TROLLEY,  FOLLY 

"You  ain't  mad  at  me,  are  you,  Dick?"  she 
asked  tremulously. 

"Holtzer  been  here?"  bruskly  interrupted 
her  visitor  with  no  apparent  relevance. 

"Yes,"  said  Mary  Ellen. 

"What  did  you  tell  him?" 

"I— I— I  told  him  'No.'  " 

Fireman  Carter  passed  his  hand  over  his 
forehead,  then  drew  out  a  newspaper,  saying: 
"You've  read  this,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes." 

"More  especially  this?"  reading  aloud  the 
most  laudatory  paragraph. 

Mary  Ellen  was  not  feazed  by  such  flagrant 
egotism. 

"Beautiful!"  she  said  dreamily.  "Just 
beautiful!" 

"Beautiful!"  yelled  Fireman  Carter,  leap- 
ing to  his  feet.  The  scorn  in  his  voice  could 
not  be  rendered  by  a  phonograph.  Poor  man ! 
He  was  about  to  knock  the  light  out  of  those 

122 


REVERSE   OF   A    MEDAL 

gray  eyes,  to  spoil  his  own  image,  and  nothing 
is  so  trying  to  a  man's  temper. 

"Hunh!"  he  continued.  "Shows  just  about 
how  much  intelligence  you  got — beautiful! 
It's  a — lie — it's  fuzzy-water  gas — there  ain't 
nothing  to  it  at  all — d'ye  understand  that?" 

This  last  came  out  so  fiercely  that  Mary  El- 
len faltered  as  she  said  she  did. 

"All  right,"  said  Fireman  Carter.  "Now,  I 
want  to  tell  you  just  one  thing :  I  ain't  the  man 
to  back-cap  no  man,  when  I  come  to  get  cooled 
down — not  with  a  girl  nor  nothing  else."  He 
tapped  his  knee  with  a  perpendicular  fore- 
finger. "Not  with  a  girl  nor  nothing!"  he  re- 
peated. "Understand  that?" 

"Yes." 

"All  right.  Now  I'm  going  to  tell  you  the 
God's  truth.  Holtzer'd  been  making  his 
cracks  about  how  he  only  had  to  speak  and 
you'd  fall  on  his  neck,  until  he  had  me  so  sore 
I  ached  wherever  m'  clothes  touched  me.  So, 

123 


TROLLEY.  FOLLY 

when  I  see  him  coasting  down  the  roof,  the 
one  thing  in  my  mind  was  that  he'd  go  feeling 
sure  that  he  was  the  star  with  you.  I  couldn't 
stand  that  No,  sir!  I  couldn't;  so  down  I 
goes  after  him.  When  I  snaked  him  up  on  the 
roof  I  tells  him,  'Cuss  your  thanks!  I  want 
this  much  out  of  you,  you  flappy-footed  slob 
— you  go  to  Mary  Ellen  to-day  and  see 
whether  she'll  take  you  or  not — I'll  bet  you 
three  months'  pay  agin  a  cigaroot  you  get 
turned  down.'  Now,  I  was  within  my  rights 
there — but" — Fireman  Carter  stopped,  wiped 
his  hands  on  his  handkerchief,  wiped  his  fore- 
head, blew  his  nose  and  swallowed  hard. 
"But,"  he  continued  bravely,  "if  all  the  yawp 
that  pup  of  a  newspaper  kid  got  rid  of  has  had 
anything  to  do  with  changing  results,  I  don't 
care  for  any  of  the  pie.  There  wasn't  no  'lay- 
ing down  his  life  for  another7  nor  anything 
of  the  kind  in  the  whole  play.  It  was  just 

124 


REVERSE   OF   A   MEDAL 

like  I'm  telling  you.  Well,  that's  all.  I— I 
thought  you  might  like  to  hear  about  it." 

There  was  a  lamentable  change  in  the  strong 
voice  at  the  last  words.  The  speaker  stared 
at  the  door  and  drummed  on  his  cap  until  the 
silence  became  unendurable,  then  he  raised 
his  eyes  slowly,  as  a  condemned  man  might  to 
the  gallows. 

There  sat  Mary  Ellen,  drinking  him  in,  still 
beatified.  The  meekest  man  who  ever  es- 
teemed himself  poor  relation  to  the  worm  that 
squirmeth  could  not  have  mistaken  the  mean- 
ing of  that  glance.  It  was  simply  adoration. 

He  straightened  up  and  stared  at  her  open- 
mouthed. 

"I'll  be  durned  if  I  believe  she's  heard  one 
word  I  said!"  thought  Fireman  Carter. 


125 


VI 

TEN  MINUTES  OF  ETERNITY 

A  REVOLVER,  A  RATTLER  AND  THE  BOWL 
OF  A  PIPE 


'TVHE  warm  June  sunshine  flooded  the 
prairie  with  light.  A  little  frisky 
breeze  made  silky  noises  in  the  grasses. 
From  the  other  end  of  the  plowed  ground 
came  the  clank  of  harness  and  the  thud  of 
hoof-beats,  as  the  four-horse  team  drew  the 
sulky-plow,  squeaking  and  complaining. 

The  monotonous  work  and  soft  air  acted 
on  the  driver  like  a  sleeping  potion,  and  he 
nodded  and  drowsed  on  the  seat,  with  the  stem 
of  a  pipe  clenched  between  his  teeth. 

This  man,  Tommy,  was  for  ever  losing  the 
bowl  of  his  pipe,  and  it  was  a  great  treat  for 
me,  a  boy  of  fourteen,  to  tell  him  of  the  loss 
and  hear  him  inveigh  against  the  offending 

126 


TEN  MINUTES  OF  ETERNITY. 

member  with  all  the  wealth  of  his  Irish-West- 
ern vocabulary.  Tommy  was  full  of  strange 
oaths  and  more  bearded  than  any  of  his  pards. 

I  giggled  in  anticipation  as  the  plow 
drew  near — sure  enough!  The  bowl  was 
gone. 

"Tommy!"  I  hailed. 

"Hay-oh!  lad!"  said  he,  snapping  his  eyes 
open.  "Whoa,  there! — have  yer  come  out 
with  ther  grub  call?" 

"No,  Tommy — but  the  bowl  of  your  pipe 
is  gone." 

"What,  again?"  and  he  removed  the  stem, 
regarding  it  sideways.  "Now,  ther  curses  of 
the  Mormon  gods  be  on  that  bowl!"  and  from 
that  beginning  followed  an  oration,  lurid  and 
marvelous. 

When  he  had  eased  his  mind  he  said :  "We 
went  down  a  hole  over  thayre,  an'  I'll  bet  it 
was  thin  it  jounced  out.  Let's  go  and  take 
a  bit  of  a  look." 

127 


TROLLEY.  FOLLY 

We  were  both  busily  turning  over  the  sod 
and  searching,  with  our  faces  bent  toward 
the  ground,  when  a  voice  said : 

"Well,  Murphy?" 

No  sound  had  heralded  any  one's  ap- 
proach. The  question  came  so  entirely  un- 
expected we  both  started  and  looked  up. 

There,  seated  in  graceful  ease  upon  a  mound 
of  grass,  was  a  lean,  dark  man,  with  a  revolver 
in  his  hand. 

At  this  sight  Tommy  stopped  rigid,  still 
half  stooped.  His  broad,  good-natured  face 
went  gray  in  an  instant.  His  eyes  glittered 
with  fear.  Twice  he  opened  his  mouth  to 
speak,  and  twice  no  sound  came ;  but  the  next 
time  the  words  poured  out  in  a  torrent  of 
frantic  haste. 

"Stephens!  I  didn't  mane  it!  Lord  God, 
man!  I  take  it  back!  Sure  yer  wouldn't  hold 
it  aginst  me!  I  was  wild  drunk  at  th'  time 

128 


TEN  MINUTES  OF  ETERNITY 

— Fur  the  love  of  Heaven,  don't  shoot  me! 
I've  got  a  wife  an'  two  childer." 

The  stranger's  mouth  went  sideways  in  an 
evil  smile. 

"You  should  have  thought  of  that  before, 
Murphy,"  he  said  slowly. 

"Yer  wouldn't  kill  me  before  the  lad,  would 
yer?"  the  other  went  on,  his  lips  so  dry  now 
that  the  words  were  no  more  than  a  whisper. 

Stephens  bent  toward  him  with  savage 
quietness,  and  with  the  same  set,  twisted  smile. 

"I  told  you  that  I  would  kill  you  on  sight," 
he  said,  "wherever  and  whenever  that  might 
be,  and  I  am  here  to  do  it." 

He  raised  the  revolver  as  he  spoke.  A  great 
sob  stuck  in  my  throat.  Through  my  head 
went  a  roaring  noise. 

I  looked  from  the  one  man  to  the  other 
in  such  a  sickening  ague  of  fear,  that  I  could 
not  have  uttered  a  sound  to  save  my  life.  I 

129 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

waited  in  this  suspense  for  the  report  that 
would  shut  out  the  cheerful  quiet  of  the  day, 
like  a  black  blot.  In  that  second  of  deathly 
silence  between  the  men,  the  whispering  of 
the  breeze  and  the  clanking  of  the  harness  of 
the  distant  horses  seemed  loud  sounds. 

Already  I  saw  poor,  honest,  drunken  Tom- 
my lying  still  upon  the  ground,  looking  with 
dead  eyes  at  the  blue  above. 

But  I  saw  a  change  come  over  his  face,  and 
before  I  had  time  to  wonder  at  it  he  spoke: 

"Stephens!"  he  said,  "don't  move  fur  yer 
life!  There's  a  rattler  widin'  a  foot  of  yer 
lift  elbow!" 

A  contemptuous  smile  parted  Stephens' 
lips  at  what  he  considered  a  silly  ruse,  and 
then  it  stopped  frozen,  leaving  him  with  a 
face  like  a  mask,  and  sitting  as  rigidly  mo- 
tionless as  Tommy  had  stood  but  a  moment 
ago,  for  at  that  instant  the  devil  of  the  prairie 

130 


TEN  MINUTES  OF  ETERNITY 

sounded   his   whirring   warning    of    sudden 
death  at  hand. 

For  a  while  all  three  of  us  were  paralyzed 
— then, 

"Oh,  thayre  he  comes!  He's  comin'  in 
front  of  yer!  Oh  Lordy!  Lordy!  what'll  I 
do !"  shrieked  Tommy. 

"Keep  perfectly  still,"  said  Stephens, 
scarcely  moving  a  muscle  of  his  face. 
"Where  is  he  now?" 

"Howly  Mary!  His  head's  a'most  touch- 
in'  yer  hand!" 

Stephens'  face  turned  to  a  green  pallor  as 
the  blood  forsook  the  tan,  but  his  expression 
of  calm  self-possession  never  changed  a  jot. 
There  was  a  certain  similarity  that  struck  me 
even  at  that  instant  between  the  finely  model- 
ed evil  head  of  the  serpent  and  the  man's 
clean-cut  features. 

They  might  have  been  a  group  in  bronze, 
131 


TROLLEY  FOLLY. 

those  two,  for  the  rattlesnake  had  stopped, 
motionless,  with  his  head  raised  in  poise ;  and 
not  the  tremor  of  a  muscle  showed  the  man 
was  living. 

"Oh  damn!  damn  this  country!"  whispered 
Tommy  in  an  agony,  "with  never  a  stick  nor 
stone  in  it!  What'll  I  do,  Stephens?  What'll 
I  do?" 

"There's  a  whip  on  your  plow;  send  the 
boy  for  it,"  breathed  he. 

I  backed  carefully  away  from  the  horrible 
spot,  fearful  the  least  sudden  movement  would 
bring  the  man's  fate  upon  him. 

Then  I  flew  for  the  whip. 

Returning,  I  placed  it  in  Tommy's  hands. 

"Now,  kid,"  whispered  Stephens,  "step 
back  and  wave  your  coat.  Hit,  Murphy,  at 
your  first  chance." 

I  did  as  directed,  and  the  little  fiery  eyes 
turned  toward  me.  Tommy  brought  down 

132 


TEN  MINUTES  OF  ETERNITY 

the  whip-stock  with  such  fury  it  shivered  into 
splinters.  At  the  same  moment  Stephens 
made  a  cat-like  jump  to  the  side. ' 

The  rattler  lay  coiling  and  writhing  in  his 
death  agony. 

We  three  humans  stood  staring  at  each 
other  without  speaking.  A  great  deal  had 
happened  within  ten  minutes,  and  speech  is 
for  commonplaces — not  for  crises. 

At  last  Stephens  broke  the  silence.  He 
stretched  his  long  arms,  and  yawned. 

"I  feel  stiff — sitting  still  so  long,"  he  said. 

Without  warning,  my  nerves  gave  way;  I 
burst  into  a  strangled  sobbing. 

Immediately  the  two  men  began  to  pat 
and  comfort  me. 

"Why,  kid,"  said  Stephens,  "you  stood  the 
rest  of  it  like  a  thoroughbred;  you  mustn't  cry 
now — there — there,  brace  up,  old  man!" 

Between  them  they  managed  to  quiet  me, 
133 


TROLLEY  FOLLY. 

and  then  Tommy  turned  timidly  to  Stephens. 

"How  about  the  trouble  between  us?"  he 
asked. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  said  the  other,  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand.  "I  don't  feel  just  as  I  did 
a  few  minutes  ago."  He  glanced  down  at 
the  still  squirming  snake.  "If  there  is  a 
God,"  he  began,  then  stopped  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders. — "Well,  so  long.  I  must  be 
going.  See  you  later." 

Tommy  and  I  watched  the  slim,  athletic 
figure  until  it  had  swung  down  on  to  the 
coulee  out  of  sight. 

"He's  a  turrible  man,"  said  Tommy,  "but 
not  a  bad  one  after  all.  Well,  look!  will  ye? 
I'll  be  damned  if  thayre  ain't  the  bowl  of  that 
pipe!" 

And  picking  it  up  we  returned  to  the 
plow  team. 


134 


VII 

THE  PUNISHMENT  AND  THE 
CRIME 

THE  TOO   HUMOROUS   PROPENSITIES   OF 
BURT  MOSSMAN  AND  OTHERS 

When  he  gets  a  tenderfoot  he  ain't  afraid  to 

rig, 
Stand    him    on  a  chuck-box  and  make  him 

dance  a  jig; 
With  his  re-a-loading  cutter  he'll  make  'em 

sing  and  shout. 
He's   a   regular   Ben   Thompson  —  when   the 

boss  ain't  about! 

—  The  Expert  Cow-man  (expurgated). 


'T^EN  thousand  head  of  steers  were  waiting 
for  cars  at  Dundee.  There  was  the  Bar 
Cross,  the  V  V,  the  California  outfit,  the  Dou- 
ble Ess  Bar,  the  7  T  X,  the  Bar  A  Bar,  the  Sac- 
ramento Pool  outfit  and  the  Tinnin-Slaughter 
wagon,  all  the  way  from  Toyah.  This  last 

135 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

named  had  bought  six  hundred  steers  on  Crow 
Flat,  road  branded  with  two  big  Y's,  and 
drove.  When  they  got  to  Dundee  they  were 
just  a  few  shy  of  nine  hundred  head.  This  is 
by  the  way,  and  inserted  only  as  a  tribute  to 
New  Mexico's  unequaled  climate. 

The  herds  were  camped  in  a  circle  around 
the  lake,  keeping  an  interval  of  about  two 
miles  from  each  other.  Each  herd  had  three 
watches  of  three  to  five  men  each  for  night- 
guard.  But  four  or  five  men  were  ample  for 
day  herding;  so  the  men  took  turns  at  that,  day 
about,  the  unoccupied  riding  to  Dundee  in 
search  of  diversions.  Forty  or  more  saddle- 
ponies  stood  patiently  unhitched,  with  dan- 
gling reins,  in  the  plaza. 

The  hotel  did  a  rushing  business,  Mrs.  Stan- 
ley's output  making  a  pleasant  contrast  to 
camp-cooking.  Norah,  the  bright-eyed,  was 
besieged  in  form  by  relays  of  admirers,  the 
more  favored  ones  being  allowed  to  help  cook 

136 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

or  wash  dishes.  Perhaps  it  should  be  stated 
in  this  connection  that  Norah  was  the  only 
girl  in  a  section  fifty  miles  square.  All  the 
same,  she  was  a  jolly,  pretty  girl. 

Now,  when  steer-shipping  time  comes  the 
season's  hard  work  is  over,  and  all  except  the 
"old  hands"  get  their  time.  And  while  most 
men  of  the  cow  countries  drink  colored  fluids 
on  occasion,  the  superfluent  ones,  who  con- 
sider the  putting  down  of  liquor  the  first  duty 
of  man,  are  not  the  stuff  of  which  old  hands 
are  made,  the  law  of  survival  obtaining  on 
the  free  range  as  elsewhere. 

So,  after  the  first  few  days,  drinking  at  Jim 
Gale's  place  became  perfunctory,  though,  as 
Dundee  consisted  of  one  hotel,  one  saloon,  one 
depot,  one  store,  the  section  house  and  two 
other  buildings,  the  saloon  was  necessarily  the 
prime  center.  The  boys  would  not  be  paid 
until  the  cattle  were  sold,  so  gambling  was 
barred  by  etiquette,  "jaw-bone"  games  being 

137 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

viewed  with  disfavor  as  tending  to  unseemly 
contention.  Similarly  the  code  forbade  more 
than  two  or  three  persecuting  Miss  Norah  at 
once,  and  time  ticked  slowly. 

Sun  in  the  east  at  morning — 
Sun  in  the  west  at  night, 

a  cloudless  sky,  and  a  daily  statement  by  a 
badgered  agent  that  the  cars  would  be  in  at 
once. 

Given  seventy-five  full-blooded,  vigorous, 
healthy  cow-boys,  twenty-four  hours  in  a  day, 
seven  days  in  a  week,  and  no  work,  and  the 
Purveyor  of  Mischief  may  be  depended  upon 
to  uphold  their  idle  hands. 

Inhospitality  is  mortal  sin  in  all  thinly-set- 
tled countries,  but  all  things  have  their  limit. 
For  ten  days  a  plague  of  tramps  had  overrun 
the  chuck-wagons,  feasting  on  steaks,  hot  bis- 
cuits and  the  like,  getting  a  meal  at  one  wagon 
and  on  to  the  next.  And  when  one  left  he 

138 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

spread  the  glad  tidings  up  and  down,  sending 
back  seven  others  worse  than  the  first,  making 
hospitality  act  like  a  camel. 

It  was  Johnny  Patton,  cook  for  the  Pool 
wagon,  that  spoke  unto  Cornelius  Brown  and 
Tinnin,  of  the  Toyah  crowd,  suggesting  the 
advisability  of  slaying  a  tramp  or  so. 

"Too  harsh,"  remarked  Burt  Mossman.  "I 
speak  for  a  Kangaroo  Court." 

"A  word  to  the  Y's  is  sufficient,"  said  Tin- 
nin. Thus  the  pit  was  digged  and  thus  the 
net  contrived,  the  three  collaborators  appro- 
priating the  leading  parts  unto  themselves.  A 
particularly  "gall-y"  and  tenacious  tramp, 
who  had  adopted  the  V  V  wagon,  was  cast 
for  the  star.  He  was  to  be  "It."  Minor  places 
were  filled  and  drilled;  the  rest  of  us  were 
Roman  populace.  The  curtain  rose  promptly 
after  dinner.  Brown  and  Tinnin  began  to 
bicker. 

Tinnin  alleged  that  Brown  had  ridden  to 
139 


TROLLEY   FOLLYt 

the  wagon  for  water  and  stayed  for  the  whole 
forenoon.  Furthermore,  he  sang  a  few 
stanzas  from  his  favorite  ditty,  The  Expert 
Cow-man,  as  bearing  on  the  subject  in  hand : 

"Put  him  on  day  herd,  he's  sleepin'  all  day, 
First  thing  that  starts  out  is  sure  to  get  away; 
Comes  home  in  the  evenin',  he'll  blame  it  on 

the  screws, 
And  swear  the  lazy  devils  were  trying  to  take 


a  snooze." 


Brown,  highly  indignant,  demanded  his 
time.  To  this  Tinnin  demurred,  saying  that 
Brown  knew  very  well  that  he,  Tinnin,  would 
have  no  money  till  the  steers  were  sold.  They 
squabbled,  L.  C.,  until  the  others  pacified  them 
and  proposed  town  and  a  drink  to  drown  un- 
kindness,  which  they  did,  inviting  the  tramp 
to  go  with  them.  To  this  he  acceded  joy- 
ously, not  having  learned  to  dread  the  gifts 
of  the  Greeks. 

They  took  several  sniffs  at  the  peace-pipe- 
140 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

line.  Then  Brown  launched  into  an  intermin- 
able yarn  of  hairbreadth  'scapes  and  ventures 
dire.  Every  time  he  named  a  new  man  he 
gave  that  man's  ancestry,  biography,  acts  and 
connections,  with  any  collateral  information 
at  hand.  And  the  more  he  talked  the  further 
he  got  from  the  latter  end  of  his  tale. 

Tinnin  got  unsteadily  to  his  feet.  "Hoi' 
on!"  he  said.  "HoF  on!  That  'minds  me  of 
a  song — 

"He'll  tell  you  of  a  certain  trip  he  made  up 

the  trail; 

Taking  half  of  Kansas  to  finish  up  his  tale; 
He's  handled  lots  of  cattle,  and  this  is  what 

he  says: 
He's  getting  sixty  dollars  the  balance  of  his 

days." 

At  this  insult  Brown  stood  on  his  tiptoes. 
"What!"  says  he,  and  jumped  forward.  Ward 
and  John  Henry  Boucher  caught  him.  There 
was  a  terrific  scuffle,  yells,  howls:  "Leggo, 

141 


TROLLEY.  FOLLY, 

.there!"  "Look  out!  He's  goin'  to  shoot!" 
etc.  Same  business  for  Tinnin,  worked  up 
most  spiritedly.  Those  who  had  to  giggle  left 
the  room. 

We  got  Brown  out  and  hustled  him  to  camp, 
calling  on  the  tramp  (his  name  was  Harris) 
to  assist. 

Brown  raged:  "I've  had  good  and  plenty 
of  that  song  the  last  month!  I've  got  a  plumb 
full  of  his  slurs!  If  that  (past-participled) 
old  blowhard  throws  any  more  of  that  (modi- 
fied) song  my  way,  he'll  get  it,  and  get  it 
hard !  He's  been  picking  at  me  long  enough." 

After  the  cattle  were  bedded  down  and  the 
first  guard  put  on,  there  were  four  at  the 
Toyah  wagon  besides  the  tramp.  Brown  had 
finished  supper  and  was  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  smoking,  when  Tinnin  rode 
up.  He  dismounted  and  came  staggering  out 
of  the  dark  into  the  firelight.  Pausing  a  mo- 
ment, he  began  hilariously: 

142 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

"To  show  you  that  he's  blooded  and  doesn't 
mind  expense, 

He  stands  around  a-scorchin'  of  his  eight-dol- 
lar pants!" 

Brown  whirled.  "Have  ye  got  a  gun?"  he 
snarled  savagely. 

"Betcher.  Always!"  said  Tinnin;  "and  I 
know  how  to  use  it." 

Crack!    Bang!    Bang!    Bang! 

They  emptied  their  guns  over  the  fire. 
Harris  was  sitting  directly  between  them. 
They  were  using  blank  cartridges,  but  of 
course  Harris  didn't  know  that,  so  he  went 
right  away. 

When  he  came  back  Tinnin  was  stretched 
out,  all  bloody  (beef's  blood)  over  his  breast 
and  face ;  the  conspirators  were  huddled,  whis- 
pering. 

Harris  came  up  scared,  white  and  shaking. 
Ward  and  Brown  grabbed  him.  Says  Ward, 
gritting  his  teeth: 

143 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

"My  bucko,  you'll  swing  for  this!" 

It  flashed  on  the  tramp  that  they  meant  to 
lay  the  "murder"  on  him.  He  begged  awful 
as  they  took  him  in,  leaving  the  corpse  and  the 
cook  to  watch  the  wagon.  It  was  great  sport 
from  our  point  of  view — and  in  that  light. 

In  town  Brown  told  the  boys  the  tramp  had 
killed  poor  Jeff;  and  turned  him  over  to 
Mossman,  the  "appointed"  sheriff. 

"Judge"  Charlie  Slaughter  called  court  in 
Gale's  saloon.  All  the  boys  were  there,  and 
most  of  the  tramps — (they  were  not  in  on  the 
joke).  The  station-agent  was  made  counsel 
for  the  defense,  and  the  trial  began,  with  all 
the  formalities  that  anybody  could  remember 
or  invent. 

A  weird  vision  blew  over  from  the  hotel — a 
frock-coated,  high-hatted,  gold-eye-glassed, 
bold-faced  man  with  an  elbow  crooked  in 
latest  fashion.  He  would  have  been  a  spec- 
tacle, ordinarily,  but  now  we  accepted  him 

144 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

as  a  man  and  brother.  We  explained  the  sit- 
uation to  him,  and  that  all  the  boys  had  blank 
cartridges. 

McClusky  and  Jones  testified  to  the  killing. 
They  made  it  wanton  and  deliberate  murder. 
Ominous  growls  arose  from  Roman  populace. 
Prisoner's  counsel  cross-examined  unmerci- 
fully, but  they  stuck. 

The  prisoner  told  his  side — told  it  straight, 
too.  He  broke  down,  cried,  and  begged  for 
mercy,  said  his  life  was  sworn  away,  that 
Brown  was  the  guilty  man.  Some  of  the  fun 
departed. 

The  judge  said  witnesses  for  the  prosecution 
were  trustworthy  men  of  high  standing,  and 
committed  the  prisoner  to  jail  at  Hillsboro  to 
await  action  of  the  grand  jury. 

"Lynch  him!  Lynch  him!"  shouted  Bou- 
cher, jumping  up.  The  judge  promptly  fined 
him  fifty  dollars  for  contempt  of  court,  which 
was  as  promptly  paid,  Boucher  borrowing  the 

145 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

money  of  Gale.     Every  one  was  as  solemn 
as  an  owl. 

"Any  further  advocacy  of  lynchin'  in  this 
court,"  said  Slaughter  sternly,  "will  get  the 
offending  man  or  men  three  months  in  jail. 
There  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  as  to  the  pris- 
oner's guilt,  but  if  he's  executed  it  will  be  by 
due  process  of  law.  Mr.  Sheriff,  swear  in 
deputies  to  guard  this  prisoner.  Take  him  to 
Hillsboro  on  the  midnight  train." 

So  Mossman  appointed  his  brother  Dana, 
Kim  Ki  Rogers,  Pink  Murray,  Frank  Cal- 
houn  and  Henry  Street.  Then  Slaughter  ad- 
journed. 

Mossman  and  his  posse  were  about  half- 
way to  the  depot  when  the  whole  crowd  over- 
took him. 

"Now,  Burt,"  said  Boucher,  "we  don't  want 
any  trouble  with  you — but  we  want  that  man, 
and  we're  going  to  have  him." 

146 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

"Hang  him !  Hang  him  1"  howled  the  mob, 
the  guns  click-clicking  through  the  little  still- 
nesses. If  there's  a  worse  sound  than  a  mob's 
howl,  Hell's  kept  it  for  a  surprise.  I  don't 
wonder  the  hobo  turned  into  a  bag  of  skin, 
even  at  the  imitation. 

"You  can't  have  him!"  Hurt's  voice  sound- 
ed dead  earnest.  He  was1  a  good  actor.  He 
handed  the  prisoner  a  gun.  "Here — defend 
yourself.  Get  out  of  the  way,  you  bums,  or 
take  what's  coming!" 

That  was  our  cue.  A  fusillade  of  blank 
cartridges  covered  our  rush.  The  officers 
made  a  game  fight. 

Curses  and  screams  showed  where  their  un- 
erring aim  mowed  down  the  Romans,  but 
they  were  outnumbered.  One  by  one  they  bit 
the  dust.  Mossman,  the  last  one  down,  gal- 
lantly raised  himself  on  elbow1  fired  a  last 
defiant  shot,  groaned  and  died.  Then  all  was 

147 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

still;  a  ghastly  silence  which  Boucher  broke. 
"This  is  bad  business — but  they  would  have  it. 
Is  the  killer  hurt?" 

He  had  miraculously  escaped.  So  we  took 
him  to  a  telegraph  pole  and  put  a  rope  around 
his  neck. 

"Let  me  say  a  word,"  he  gasped. 

I  like  to  remember  that  even  a  tramp  can 
stand  up  and  look  at  the  Big  Dark.  He  didn't 
cry  now;  he'd  lost  sight  of  himself. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  quiet,  "I  ain't  begging.  If 
I'd  'a'  done  what  they  said  it  would  put  you 
straight.  I'm  only  sorry  so  many  better  men 
was  killed  over  me.  You  are  doin'  what  you 
think  is  right.  But  that  man  yonder — that 
Brown — killed  Mr.  Tinnin.  Him  and  them 
three  men  lied.  Tinnin's  blood  and  my  blood 
and  all  the  other  boys'  blood  is  on  their  souls. 
I  wouldn't  swap  with  them.  I  wouldn't  want 
to  live  and  be  them.  But  you'll  find  out  some 
day  I  told  the  truth.  That's  about  all." 

148 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

"Any  word  to  your  folks?"  asked  Boucher. 
"Want  to  pray?" 

"I  ain't  got  no  folks — and  no  notion  how 
to  pray,"  he  answered,  catching  at  the  nearest 
man  to  keep  from  falling.  Then  he  steadied 
himself  and  looked  up  and  around  as  if  search- 
ing among  the  reeling  stars  for  the  Heavenly 
Help  of  whom  he'd  heard  so  much. 

It  was  as  ghastly  as  those  waxwork  figure 
murders.  I  sweat  plenty.  It  was  worse  than 
if  we'd  been  in  earnest,  by  the  whole  dum 
multiplication  table. 

I  reckon  Brown  and  the  rest  got  worrying, 
too,  for  Brown  forced  his  part.  "Let  me 
speak  to  him  for  a  minute,"  says  he.  Under 
pretense  of  talk  he  unlocked  the  handcuffs. 

"I  can't  stand  this,"  he  whispered.  "Horses 
is  all  over  yonder,  and  guns  mostly  empty — 
cut.  Quit  the  railroad  and  slide  across  the 
Jornada.  If  you  make  the  bushes  maybe  you 
can  break  clean." 

149 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

People  are  curious.  Harris  had  been 
braced  to  die,  but  the  minute  he  saw  a  chance 
he  flew.  I  think  I'd  acted  in  that  curious  way 
myself,  maybe. 

We  took  after  him,  yelling  "Catch  him!" 
and  "Get  your  horses!"  and  firing  scattering 
shots.  We  run  him  a  half-mile,  then  we  came 
back,  laughing  and  screeching. 

But  when  we  got  together — a  houseful  of 
us — and  begun  to  talk  about  that  poor  cuss 
hiding  and  trembling  in  the  dark,  Neighbor 
Jones  blew  a  smoke-ring  in  the  air  and  stuck 
his  finger  through  it.  The  ring  disappeared. 
"Where's  that  joke  gone?"  says  he.  And  we 
all  looked  cross-eyed  at  our  drinks. 

But  there  wasn't  a  hobo  on  the  Jornada  the 
next  morning. 

A  lot  of  us  felt  mean  next  day.  But  a  good 
half  was  too  young  to  have  sense;  the  men 
that  had  been  on  guard  hadn't  seen  it,  and  a 
lot  more  were  used  to  being  part  of  a  crowd ; 

150 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

otherwise  the  first  night  of  the  Dundee  com- 
edy would  have  ended  its  run. 

Probably  it  would  have  been  that  way,  any- 
how, if  "Aforesaid"  Smith  hadn't  got  too 
many  aboard.  For  a  week  after  our  hanging- 
bee  tramps  passed  Dundee — probably  warned 
by  their  underground  telegraph.  Then  hobos 
straggled  in.  The  young — and  therefore 
hard-hearted — wanted  another  court  at  once. 
Wiser  counsel  prevailed,  however,  until  the 
tenth  day. 

The  sidings  were  full  of  cars,  the  buyers 
had  cut  the  herds,  and  a  few  train-loads  had 
pulled  out.  All  the  "culls"  were  thrown  to- 
gether, to  be  cut  again  when  shipping  was 
done,  and  driven  back  to  their  respective 
ranches.  And — all  of  the  boys  had  been  paid. 

At  this  juncture  "Aforesaid"  fell  by  the 
wayside,  and  went  to  sleep  under  a  spreading 
soapwood  tree.  That  was  an  old  chestnut  of 
his; 

151 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

Now,  Will  Borland,  suffering  from  re- 
morse, had  protected  and  kindly  entreated  a 
new  tramp  at  the  7  T  X  wagon.  Will  was 
afflicted  with  a  nasty  conscience  that  never  got 
to  working  in  time  to  keep  him  out  of  mean- 
ness, and  then  dealt  him  misery  after  it  was 
everlastingly  too  late. 

Well,  this  hobo  of  Borland's  came  along 
and  went  right  through  "Aforesaid's"  clothes 
to  the  tune  of  ninety  dollars.  But  Neighbor 
Jones  saw  him. 

They  rounded  up  the  hobo  when  he  got  to 
town,  found  the  money  on  him,  woke  "Afore- 
said," and  compared  profit  and  loss.  So,  after 
supper,  they  desired  to  give  another  reading 
of  the  "Kangaroo  Court."  There  was  consid- 
erable opposition  to  this,  and  several  stayed 
away,  to  their  everlasting  joy.  But  most  of 
the  remonstrants  joined  the  majority,  as  this 
lad  needed  punishment. 

152 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

The  cast  was  different  this  trip,  Kim  Ki  be- 
ing sheriff  and  Hopewell  judge.  All  went 
merry  as  a  marriage  bell — with  a  few  varia- 
tions— until  just  after  the  holler  of  "Lynch 
him!"  smote  the  air.  Then  that  frock-coated, 
weird  and  unknowable  stranger,  who  had 
boarded  at  the  hotel  all  this  while,  addressed 
the  court  with  diffidence  and  timidity. 

"Your  Honor,  may  I  have  permission  to  say 
a  few  words?"  he  asked. 

"Oh — I  suppose  so,"  said  his  Honor. 
"Only  be  short." 

The  stranger  removed  his  eye-glasses  and 
polished  them  while  he  looked  over  the  crowd 
with  a  benignant  smile. 

"Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  if  I  detain  you  a 
moment.  Let  us  forget  this  bum  and  your 
monkey  business.  I  have  been  much  pained 
to  overhear  the  comments  of  some  of  your 
number  upon  myself.  You  boys  are  so  frank 

153 


TROLLEY.  FOLLY. 

and  fearless  and  free" — another  oily  smile — 
"and  are  careless,  perhaps,  of  giving  another 
pain." 

He  lowered  his  voice  confidentially.  "Now 
this  pained  me  more,  as  you  hit  very  close  to 
fact.  I  was  once  an  abandoned  and  ungodly 
man — but  I  have  been  shown  the  error  of  my 
ways,  and  now  it  is  my  firm  intention  to  be- 
come a  missionary."  He  put  the  glasses  in 
his  breast-pocket,  slow,  thrust  the  handker- 
chief under  his  coat-tails,  slow — and  produced 
two  cannon  too  quick  for  eye-sight — nothing 
but  a  flash. 

"Don't  be  rash,"  he  said  in  kindly  tones. 
"His  Honor  will  tell  you  my  colleague  is 
standing  at  the  back  door.  Is  it  not  so, 
Judge?" 

"Yes-es!"  stammered  the  judge. 

There  was  a  silence  thick  as  custard. 

"I  will  not  insist  on  the  formality  of  putting 
up  your  hands,  gentlemen;  as  the  poet  hath  it: 

154 


He  produced  two  cannon  too  quick  for  eye-sight.     Page  154 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

"  'If  the  red  slayer  think  he  slays 
Or  the  slain  think  he  is  slain, 
They  little  know  my  subtle  ways.'     .     .     . 

"Now,  /  know  your  subtle  ways,  being 
aware  your  guns  are  loaded  with  blanks.  I 
offer  in  evidence  that  no  one  should  try  to  re- 
load. My  colleague  will  proceed  to  testify. 
Doc,"  he  called  across  us,  "try  the  clock  hang- 
ing over  my  head — hold  its  little  hands  as  they 
lay!" 

"Ker-bang — two  shots."  A  bullet-hole  ap- 
peared neatly  in  the  center  of  the  III  and  an- 
other just  inside  and  over  the  IX.  The  time 
was  9:15. 

"Fair — fair!"  said  the  missionary,  gently 
chiding.  "My  brother's  left  hand  can't  do 
just  what  his  right  doeth.  Still,  I'm  satisfied 
with  my  pupil." 

His  voice  was  rich  and  unctuous,  and  one 
eye  rolled  upward  sanctimoniously — the  other 
kept  strictly  to  business. 

155 


TROLLEY   FOLLY. 

We  listened,  fascinated — some  one  snick- 
ered. 

Our  friend  cleared  his  throat  and  contin- 
ued: 

"We  realize  we  could  rake  a  tidy  sum  out 
of  this  bunch  if  we  were  grasping.  But  if  we 
get  exacting  there's  three  possible  bad  results. 
First,  it  would  entail  considerable  hardships 
on  you,  and  on  all  those  to  whom  you  are  in- 
debted. Secondly,  it  would  arouse  evil  pas- 
sions in  your  hearts. 

"Lastly,  and  most  important  to  us,  you 
would  probably  make  us  try  high  jumping 
over  the  hills  and  far  away. 

"So  we  make  you  a  proposition  which  will 
strike  you  as  being  eminently  reasonable. 
You  are  a  playful  crowd,  fond  of  your  little 
joke —  Ah!  speaking  of  jokes,  pardon  me 
one  moment.  Prisoner,  you  are  discharged. 
Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you,  my  dear  brother, 
to  be  honest  and  upright  in  all  your  dealings 

156 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

in  the  future.  Do  you  know,  if  I  were  you,  I 
would  not  stay  here?  Going?  Good-byl 
God  bless  you ! — To  resume :  We  could  take 
your  money,  your  guns  and  all  your  saddled 
cattle,  and  quite  probably  break  away  safely. 
But  we  would  be  sorry  to  cause  you  more 
than  a  temporary  inconvenience,  and  we 
freely  admit  that  you  would  give  us  the  chase 
of  the  century.  If  we  should  be  unfortunate 
enough  to  be  captured  you  might  prove  vin- 
dictive. 

"In  view  of  these  considerations,  we  would 
like  to  have  the  matter  go  off  like  a  little  pack 
of  firecrackers  among  gentlemen;  especially 
as  we  do  not  think  you  will  take  strenuous 
measures  to  pursue  us — our  capture  would  put 
the  monumental  kibosh  on  you  for  ever. 

"You  could  hang  us,  but  the  way  we  stuck 
you  up  would  be  told  for  years  to  come.  If 
you  see  fit  to  keep  the  matter  private,  we  will 
not  mention  it. 

157 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

"This  is  our  moderate  proposition:  Let 
each  of  the  foremen  throw  one  hundred 
plunks  in  the  plate,  and  each  of  the  range- 
riders  fifty.  The  owners  shall  contribute  one 
dollar  a  head  on  each  of  their  steers.  That 
is  less  than  the  biblical  tithe,  as  they  have  sold 
for  fourteen  dollars  a  head. 

"We  regret  that  two  owners  were  unable  to 
see  the  humor  of  your  festivities,  and  that 
three  foremen  and  some  twenty  of  the  boys 
thought  your  fun  too  one-sided.  Still,  over 
seven  thousand  head  of  cattle  are  represented 
here,  besides  five  foremen,  and  fifty  of  the 
boys  at  fifty  dollars  each,  making,  say,  ten 
thousand  dollars  altogether.  Come  up  I  The 
center  table  looks  lonesome. 

"Voluntarily  donate  so  much  to  the  good 
cause,  and  pledge  your  words  to  give  us  an 
hour's  start  before  Uncle  Tomming  us.  Sixty 
minutes  you  hold  your  dogs."  He  stopped 
and  set  himself.  Says  he,  through  a  thin  and 

158 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

tight  mouth :    "Otherwise  we  take  all  and  risk 
all.    Let  her  come  quick." 

Dana  Mossman  spoke  up :  "Your  proposi- 
tion is  all  right  with  me,  Parson.  I  am  much 
interested  in  mission  work  myself.  But  I 
want  to  call  your  attention  to  Frank  Dodds 
here.  He  wasn't  in  on  our  little  witticism  the 
other  day,  and  only  came  along  to  keep  us 
from  going  too  far  to-night.  He  swore  he'd 
tell  the  hobo  we  was  only  fooling  before  we 
got  the  rope  around  his  neck." 

"The  point  is  well  taken,"  said  the  Parson 
pleasantly.  "Your  attitude  is  sportsmanlike 
to  a  degree,  and  does  you  great  credit.  Mr. 
Dodds  may  pass.  Now,  has  any  other  gentle- 
man any  suggestion  to  make?" 

"A  nice  point  arises  in  my  mind  as  to  what 
would  happen  if  we  resisted,"  said  Tinnin. 
"You  couldn't  kill  all  of  us,  you  know — and 
when  we  did  get  hold  of  you  you  would  find 
it  a  matter  for  subsequent  regret." 

159 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

"Very  true — ve-ry  true,"  said  the  Parson 
musingly.  "Yet  not  one  of  you  knows  but  he 
might  be  the  one  to  have  bad  luck.  We  count 
on  that — and  you  must  count  that,  expecting 
no  mercy,  we  should  show  none." 

"Yes — that's  so,  too.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll 
do.  Leave  out  the  horse-wranglers — they're 
just  boys  and  don't  know  no  better  than  to 
follow  us — and  I'm  with  you." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  the  horse- 
wranglers.  It  might  be  a  valuable  lesson  in 
the  future.  They  can  not  learn  too  early  to 
avoid  pleasure  which  gives  others  pain.  What 
do  you  say,  Doc?"  This  to  the  silent  one. 

"Boys  free,"  said  that  vigilant  person.  "Cut 
it  short!  You  talk  too  damn  much!"  And 
that  was  his  only  remark  that  evening. 

"All  right.  We  had  set  our  hearts  on  clear- 
ing up  an  even  ten  thousand,  though.  I  see 
some  steer  buyers  of  a  facetious  turn  here. 

160 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

Perhaps  they  will  be  good  enough  to  make  up 
the  deficiency." 

The  Colonel  spoke  up  deprecatingly: 
"Now  I  do  not  for  a  moment  desire  any  blood- 
shed. But  as  to  taking  all  our  money,  remem- 
ber that  ninety  per  cent,  of  it  is  in  checks. 
You  couldn't  use  them,  you  know.  And  I  cer- 
tainly do  not  carry  a  thousand  dollars  with  me 
in  cash.  I  'm  willing  to  give  you  what  money  I 
have — but  I  can't  pay  you  one  dollar  a  head." 

"Vent  slips,"  said  the  Parson.  "Your  quota 
is  twelve  hundred  head,  Colonel.  Don't  try 
to  fudge.  It  would  be  difficult  to  realize  on 
all  of  it — as  you  justly  observe.  Still,  much 
can  be  done  by  two  resolute  men.  We  might 
take  a  few  of  you  out  in  the  brush  and  shoot 
you  some  if  the  checks  were  not  paid.  I  fancy 
you  would  see  that  they  were.  'Skin  for  skin, 
yea,  all  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his 
life.'  Really,  you  tempt  me.  One  hundred 

161 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

thousand  dollars  is  a  big  stake,  worthy  of  a 
bold  throw.  But  let  us  not  be  covetous,  my 
brothers. 

"As  to  the  other  matter,  I  happen  to  know 
that  Mr.  Gale  had  ten  thousand  dollars  sent 
down  to  cash  checks  with.  You  owners  either 
give  him  your  checks  for  your  contribution,  to 
cash,  pledging  your  words  as  gentlemen  and 
cow-men  to  redeem  them,  or  we  will  clean  out 
the  crowd,  safe  and  all,  and  take  you  check- 
men  out  to  herd,  till  we  have  a  friend  nego- 
tiate the  paper. 

"If  Mr.  Gale  will  cash  the  checks  for  you 
we  will  let  him  go  free.  I  am  sure  he  will — 
for  if  he  don't  I'll  draw  a  check  for  it  all, 
and  I  know  he'll  cash  that!  Speak  up.  All 
or  part!  The  time  has  passed  pleasantly,  but 
I  must  go.  You  have  indulged  in  Terpsicho- 
rean  recreation  and  you  are  now  under  obli- 
gation to  remunerate  the  violinist." 

162 


PUNISHMENT  AND  THE  CRIME 

Neighbor  gasped.  "How  was  that  again? 
I  only  speak  English  and  Spanish." 

"Ante  up !"  quoth  the  Parson. 

"Oh!" 

"Copper  your  jaw  and  take  what  you  want," 
said  Slaughter.  "None  of  us  is  looking  for 
getting  killed.  And  I'm  not  going  to  push  a 
foot  after  you,  for  one.  It  serves  us  right. 
Come  on,  boys.  Hurry  up — I  want  to  go  to 
bed." 

So  said  we  all  of  us.  Kim  Ki  and  Neighbor 
passed  the  hat.  The  cow-men  drew  checks. 
Gale  cashed  them.  The  Parson  counted  up. 
It  was  a  little  over  nine  thousand  six  hundred 
dollars,  and  they  made  the  buyers  draw  checks 
then  to  make  up  the  even  ten  thousand. 

"Far  be  it  from  me  to  doubt  your  integrity," 
says  he  with  the  hand-on-the-chest  act.  "But, 
as  a  precaution  against  carelessness,  the  Col- 
onel, Mr.  Tinnin,  his  Honor  and  Mr.  Moss- 

163 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

man  will  accompany  us  for  an  hour  or  so. 
Good  night,  and  pleasant  dreams!  Try  and 
control  your  humorous  propensities.  Charmed 
to  have  met  you,  I'm  sure — and  I  hope  to  meet 
you  Hereafter  (with  a  capital  H) — boys — 
not  before!  Good  night!" 

And  they  went  out  the   door  with  their 
hostages. 


164 


VIII 

CAMP  CUNNINGHAM 
THE  STORY  OF  A  DAKOTA  STORM 


'T^HE  population  of  Dakota  in  the  early 
days  was  miscellaneous,  to  say  the  least 
of  it.  Men  from  every  part  of  the  world, 
from  every  station  in  life,  and  for  many  rea- 
sons, hobnobbed  together  in  terms  of  free  and 
equal  intercourse.  All  social  rules  were 
turned  topsy-turvy  —  or  rather,  ceased  to  exist. 
You  could  get  a  German  baron  to  plow  your 
garden  for  you,  if  you  wanted  style,  and  were 
not  particular  about  the  aim  and  scope  of  the 
furrows,  and  perhaps  while  the  baron  was 
plugging  away,  desperately  struggling  to  keep 
the  plow  from  emulating  the  exasperated 
worm  of  the  old  story,  Jimmy  O'Brien  would 
come  sailing  by  behind  his  team  of  2  130  trot- 
ters on  his  way  to  deposit  the  money  obtained 

165 


by  wise  government  contracts,  and  sing  out  a 
jovial  greeting  of  "Stick  to  'um,  Bar'n,  old 
man  rocks!  Thot's  th'  road  t'  wealth — but 
ye'll  be  a  toird  man  when  you  land  there  1" 
And  the  baron  would  wave  his  hand  in  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  greeting,  and  smile 
grimly  to  himself  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
statement. 

All  manner  of  younger  sons  inhabited  the 
country,  making  nonsense  of  the  occupations 
they  took  up  under  the  disguise  of  earning 
an  honest  living,  and  for  which,  as  a  rule, 
they  showed  a  superb  incapacity. 

One  of  these  scions  of  a  noble  house  was 
James  Cecil  R.  DeG.  Cunningham — often 
known  as  Slim  Jim  or  Pelican  Cunningham 
— sometimes  as  just  plain  Cunny.  He  had  a 
tent  on  a  homestead  on  the  banks  of  the 
Chantay  Seeche  River.  It  was  a  very  clean, 
white  tent.  All  the  empty  tin  cans  were  piled 
up  outside,  like  cannon-balls  in  a  fort,  and 

166 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

every  morning  the  estate  was  carefully  "po- 
liced." No  scraps  and  odds  and  ends  littered 
the  courtyard  of  Camp  Cunningham. 

"Like  master,  like  man,"  says  the  saw,  and 
in  this  case  truly,  for  the  man  Cunningham 
was  exactly  like  the  master  Cunningham- 
sur-le-Chantay  Seeche.  No  matter  what  his 
work  was,  he  always  managed  to  look  as  if 
he  had  just  come  from  the  wash — not  that 
he  was  beautiful,  but  he  was  so  chalky  clean. 
His  hair  was  clean,  a  peculiar  no-color-at-all- 
cleanliness;  his  teeth  were  clean,  and  almost 
the  size  of  piano-keys,  when  disclosed  by  his 
wide,  good-natured  smile ;  his  eyes  were  pure 
white  and  pale  blue.  They  showed  behind 
the  powerful  lenses  that  corrected  their  my- 
opia, like  specimens  of  old  china  in  a  cabinet. 
They  also  had  something  of  the  trustfulness 
and  instant  claim  for  sympathy  in  their  short- 
sighted stare  that  one  often  sees  in  children's 
eyes. 

167 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

Cunningham  was  full  six  feet  two  in  stature, 
bony,  and  loosely  put  together.  His  legs  were 
of  such  length  that  Billy  Wykam's  remark, 
that,  "if  it  wasn't  for  his  necktie,  Cunny  would 
be  twins,"  had  more  foundation  in  fact  than 
most  hyperbole.  But  his  walking  gait  was 
the  most  remarkable  thing  about  him  physic- 
ally. He  took  immense  strides,  swinging  his 
arms  to  their  full  extent,  in  unison,  while  his 
head  had  a  continuous  pecking  motion.  Paul 
Falk,  our  intellectual  giant,  said  that  Cun- 
ningham in  action  looked  like  a  demonstra- 
tion of  a  transverse  vibration,  and  at  rest  like 
Cunningham,  and  nothing  else  on  this  or  any 
other  planet.  He  was  one  mortally  homely 
man,  if  ever  there  lived  one,  yet  there  was 
something  high  and  striking  in  his  long,  big- 
nosed  face,  and  a  genial  quality  in  his  perfect 
manner  that  would  win  you  to  liking  him  at 
the  first  meeting  and  for  ever  after.  His  was 
the  style  of  the  true  nobleman,  and  gained 

168 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

for  him  the   respect  of  the  hilarious  crew 
among  whom  he  lived,  despite  his  oddities. 

Many  a  quiet  kindly  turn,  so  carefully  con- 
trived that  he  never  guessed  it  was  a  kindness, 
he  received  from  his  neighbors;  and  for  his 
part  no  man  could  have  been  more  willing  or 
useless.  With  an  ax  in  his  hand  he  was  the 
most  dangerous  companion  imaginable.  He 
nearly  brained  two  of  the  boys  before  they 
could  think  of  an  excuse  to  part  him  and  his 
weapon  without  hurting  his  feelings,  and 
when  he  started  to  help  in  an  undertaking, 
not  the  least  of  the  troubles  of  the  others  was 
to  render  him  harmless.  On  one  occasion 
Billy  Wykam  had  a  matter  of  twenty  or  thirty 
calves  he  wished  to  brand.  Cunningham  was 
in  the  corral,  armed  with  a  rope,  intensely 
serious  and  businesslike.  He  tripped  up  al- 
most everybody  with  the  ropes;  he  "shooed" 
the  wrong  "critters"  out  of  the  corral,  so  that 
somebody  had  to  take  horses  and  chase  them 

169 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

for  miles  over  the  prairie  until  they  could 
be  secured  again;  he  roped  Antelope  Pete 
by  mistake  when  the  latter  was  flying  down 
the  corral  towed  by  a  powerful  yearling,  and 
gave  Pete  a  fall  that  it  would  take  years  to 
blot  out  of  the  spectator's  memory;  then  in 
his  zeal  he  hauled  away  on  the  rope,  dragging 
his  victim  quite  a  distance  before  he  could  be 
stopped. 

It  was  as  much  as  the  rest  of  us  could  do, 
so  weak  were  we  from  laughing,  to  prevent 
the  angry  plainsman  from  laying  violent  hands 
on  Cunningham,  who,  of  course,  was  ignorant 
of  having  given  offense.  In  short,  Cunning- 
ham was  so  persistently  where  he  ought  not 
to  be,  and  so  entirely  in  everybody's  way,  that 
some  of  the  boys  were  like  to  die  of  suppressed 
profanity.  Billy  asked  Paul  for  mercy's  sake 
to  set  the  man  at  something  where  he  wouldn't 
be  playing  the  old  Harry  with  things  all  the 
time.  Paul  elected  him  to  the  position  of 

170 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

branding-iron  tender,  whose  duties  are  to  heat 
the  irons,  and  hand  them  out  when  needed. 
Even  here  the  Englishman  distinguished  him- 
self, for,  peering  near-sightedly  around  with 
a  hot  iron  in  his  hand,  he  touched  Billy's 
buckskin  bronco  on  the  flank  with  it.  The 
ugly  little  beast  promptly  kicked  Cunningham 
into  the  fire,  and  then  tore  around  the  corral, 
spreading  disaster  and  confusion.  Poor 
Cunny  got  several  bad  burns,  for  which  the 
rest  of  us  were  not  as  sorry  as  we  should  be, 
inasmuch  as  they  forced  him  to  knock  off  for 
the  day. 

If  anything  could  have  added  to  the  ab- 
surdity of  Cunningham's  performance,  it 
would  be  that  he  was  the  "perfect  gentle- 
man" all  the  while;  explaining,  apologizing, 
or  hazarding  an  opinion,  it  was  always  with 
the  little  graces  of  the  drawing-room.  How 
ludicrous  this  manner  is  in  a  rushing,  dusty, 
hot,  -swearing  cattle-corral  is  a  thing  that  has 

171 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

to  be  seen  to  be  appreciated.  We  always 
tried  to  secure  Cunningham's  services  else- 
where when  we  had  something  on  hand  which 
we  really  wished  to  put  through.  The  man 
had  a  modest  pride  in  his  tent  that  it  would 
have  been  wicked  to  disturb,  yet  for  his  safe- 
ty's sake  it  became  a  friendly  duty  to  drop 
him  a  word  of  warning.  He  had  landed  in 
the  country  in  the  spring,  and  hitherto  the 
weather  had  been  delightful,  without  an  omen 
of  the  furious  storms  that  were  sure  to  come 
during  the  summer.  It  seemed  to  us  that  his 
tent  wouldn't  amount  to  much  in  the  grass  of 
Dakota,  but  we  didn't  like  to  tell  him  so.  At 
last  we  appointed  Neighbor  Case  our  com- 
missioner to  acquaint  Cunningham  with  some 
facts  we  thought  he  had  overlooked.  After 
praising  the  tent  and  its  surroundings,  Neigh- 
bor came  to  the  heart  of  his  message. 

"It's  mighty  nice — mighty  nice,  Lengthy," 
he  said.     "Yet,  if  you  want  my  advice,  I'll  tell 

172 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

you  what  I'd  do ;  I'd  take  a  half  hitch  around 
a  boulder  with  them  guy-ropes,  if  I  was  you. 
Even  then,  you  wouldn't  have  no  sure  thing. 
Wait  till  you  see  one  of  our  little  breezes 
come  cantering  over  the  prairies,  son;  you'll 
wish  you  had  a  cast-iron  tent,  fastened  to  the 
bowels  of  the  earth  with  bridge-bolts." 

"I'm  sure  I  thank  you  awfully,  old  man, 
for  your  interest,  you  know,"  replied  Cun- 
ningham, "but,"  inspecting  his  moorings  care- 
fully through  his  glasses,  "I  think  she'll  stand 
it.  The  pressure  of  the  wind  on  a  normal 
surface  is  only  two  pounds  to  the  square  foot, 
for  a  velocity  of  twenty  miles  an  hour,  and, 
of  course,  on  oblique  surfaces — like  the  tent- 
walls — much  less,  much  less.  Why,  even  in 
the  cases  of  exceptional  storms,  the  pressure 
does  not  rise  above  eighty  or  ninety  pounds, 
and  as  I  was  careful  to  get  only  the  best  of 
canvas  and  cordage,  she  should  stand  that, 
don't  you  think?" 

173 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

Neighbor  Case  was  impressed,  if  not  con- 
verted. "That's  a  great  head  you  have  on 
you,  Lengthy,"  he  said  admiringly.  "You 
seem  to  know  old  Mr.  Wind's  ways  as  well 
as  if  you  and  he  had  played  in  the  back  yard 
together  when  you  was  boys;  but  I  want  to 
tell  you  something.  He  may  act  like  that  in 
books,  and  only  press  you  for  so  many  pounds 
as  you  tell  me  about  when  you're  normal  and 
he's  hitting  a  certain  gait,  but  you  can't  tell 
what  he'll  do  when  he  gets  you  out  here  all 
alone  on  the  prairies.  He  may  forget  the 
rules  and  press  you  just  as  hard  as  he  darn 
pleases ;  or  he  may  shift  the  cut  and  knock  you 
into  a  cocked  hat  before  you  can  get  the  books 
out  to  show  what  he  ought  to  do.  No, 
Lengthy,  book-learning  is  good,  and  you  won't 
catch  me  saying  nothing  agin  it;  but  if  I  was 
you,  I'd  let  it  slide  on  this  occasion,  and  tie 
her  up  to  a  boulder." 

174 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

Cunningham,  however,  had  a  trait  in  com- 
mon with  many  gentle-natured  people — that 
of  mild  obstinacy — and  he  stuck  to  his  tent 
just  as  it  was. 

We  could  not  urge  him  further,  so  there 
the  matter  dropped — until  the  day  of  the 
storm,  then  several  other  things  came  to  earth. 

We  woke  one  morning  to  find  the  country 
wrapped  in  a  fury  of  red  light — not  the  cheery 
glow  of  daybreak,  but  a  baleful  crimson,  as 
though  it  were  raining  blood  on  a  world  of 
fire.  In  the  west  a  massive  heap  of  storm  was 
rolling,  against  whose  murky  blackness  the 
small  buttes  stood  out  ruddily.  It  was  a  boil- 
ing storm;  the  vapors  curled  and  twisted  in 
a  way  that  meant  wind  and  hail,  and  plenty 
of  both. 

"By  the  great  HohokusI  We're  going  to 
catch  it  this  trip,"  said  Billy,  and  the  three 
who  composed  the  household  of  his  ranch  be- 

175 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

gan  scrambling  about  in  nervous  haste,  gath- 
ering up  the  things  that  might  be  blown  away 
by  wind. 

In  the  middle  of  it  he  called  out  to  me, 
"Say,  Hank,  don't  you  think  we  ought  to  give 
old  Cunny  a  lift?  Here's  where  his  shanty 
comes  down,  sure!" 

This  was  more  than  kind  of  Billy,  for  about 
the  only  thing  in  the  world  he  feared  was 
thunder  and  lightning,  and  this  filled  him 
with  a  dread  that  neither  his  strong  will  nor 
good  sense  could  in  the  least  abate  or  control. 

Of  course,  I  could  not  refuse.  We  started 
on  a  run  for  Camp  Cunningham,  a  mile  or  so 
down  the  river.  Yet,  though  the  distance  was 
so  small,  we  had  reason  to  doubt  that  we  could 
cover  it.  Half-way,  a  hailstone  the  size  of 
a  child's  fist  went  whistling  over  our  heads, 
ricocheted  along  the  sod  in  great  bounds ;  then 
came  another  and  another — the  skirmish  fire 
of  the  storm. 

176 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

The  suggestive  "thwuck"  of  these  missiles 
as  they  took  the  ground  made  me  draw  in  my 
head  as  far  as  possible — like  a  turtle. 

I  was  just  wondering  what  effect  one  of 
them  would  have  on  the  human  body,  when 
a  big  fellow  smashed  fairly  against  the  side 
of  Billy's  head — a  sounding  blow  which 
knocked  the  sturdy  little  man  staggering. 

"We've  got  to  get  out  of  this,"  he  said, 
grinding  his  teeth  in  pain,  "or  we'll  be  slaugh- 
tered!" 

A  trickle  of  blood  from  a  cut  in  his  head 
bore  witness  that  this  was  not  a  figure  of 
speech.  Let  any  one  who  doubts  the  Lethal 
quality  of  a  Dakota  hail-storm  stand  out  in 
the  open  while  a  dozen  or  so  expert  ball- 
pitchers  open  fire  on  him  with  pieces  of  ice, 
weighing  up  to  half  a  pound  (the  actual  con- 
ditions of  the  storms  are  sometimes  a  worse 
matter  than  this  comes  to) ,  and  I  fancy  he  will 
soon  be  changed  from  a  skeptic  to  a  fanatic. 

177 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

If  I  had  any  doubts  they  were  instantly  re- 
moved by  a  rap  on  the  arm  which  numbed  it 
to  the  finger-tips.  For  a  moment  we  hesi- 
tated, but  it  was  too  far  back  to  the  ranch,  so 
we  broke  for  the  scant  cover  of  some  bullberry 
bushes  on  the  hitherside  of  Cunningham's 
coulee. 

As  we  flattened  ourselves  behind  these  the 
real  storm  was  on  us  in  a  breath.  We  were 
stunned  by  the  uproar;  the  all-pervading 
heavy  drumming  of  rain  and  hail,  and  the  hiss 
of  their  passage;  the  yelling  and  booming  of 
the  wind,  and  the  thunder  that  smote  the  earth, 
crash  upon  crash,  like  the  blows  of  a  hammer. 
We  did  not  think — we  held  on  tight  and 
waited.  One  could  not  see  ten  feet  into  the 
gray  of  falling  ice  and  water,  and  the  rush  of 
it  nearly  took  one's  senses  away.  It  all  but 
turned  the  level  prairie  into  a  seething  lake, 
and  the  slopes  into  rapids.  Suddenly  the 

178 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

downpour  ceased  almost  as  abruptly  as  it  be- 
gan, and  nothing  remained  but  the  wind.  I 
say  "nothing,"  because  that  is  our  idiom.  I  do 
not  use  the  word  in  a  depreciatory  sense,  for 
we  had  full  realization  of  what  force  there  is 
in  mere  air  in  motion  that  morning.  It  swept 
across  the  prairie  in  one  great  tide  of  power. 
There  was  not  a  flutter  nor  break  in  it.  It 
jammed  us  down  in  the  mud,  and  then  held 
,us  there.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  our  heads 
would  be  whipped  off  our  shoulders  if  we 
dared  lift  them  up  into  the  full  swing  of  it. 
But  this  acme  of  energy  passed  at  last,  and 
we  turned  our  eyes  down  the  coulee  to  see 
how  our  friend  had  fared. 

Tent  Cunningham  had  so  far  fulfilled  its 
architect's  expectations.  A  swollen  yellow 
river  from  the  coulee  washed  its  edge  and  it 
was  plastered  with  mud  by  the  hailstones,  but 
otherwise  uninjured. 

179 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

"He's — weathered — it!"  roared  Billy  in  my 
ear.  "Yes,"  I  answered,  "coulee — bank — 
protected — him.  He's — all — right — if — " 

I  was  going  to  say  "if  the  wind  doesn't 
shift."  But  before  the  words  were  out  the 
wind  had  shifted. 

Rrrr-oooo-oof !  It  shrieked  down  the  cou- 
lee and  with  a  snapping  and  a  cracking,  like  a 
small  Fourth  of  July  celebration,  away  went 
Tent  Cunningham.  The  canvas  rose  in  the 
air,  flapping  tragically;  and  beneath  it,  gal- 
loping in  frantic  haste,  were  the  longest  and 
thinnest  legs  in  the  world,  as  poor  Cunning- 
ham, caught  in  the  folds,  was  hustled  onward. 
We  could  see  nothing  of  him  but  legs,  and 
as  the  flying  tent  bore  a  rude  semblance  to 
the  human  figure,  the  combination  looked  like 
a  gigantic  ghost,  with  slender  black  legs, 
hurrying  off  to  haunt  somebody. 

Such  leaps  and  bounds  as  Cunningham 
made  were  never  equaled  by  the  winner  of 

180 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

any  Olympia,  ancient  or  modern;  and  such 
another  vision  never  was  beheld  outside  the 
course  of  a  nightmare.  There  was  a  fever  of 
madness  in  its  curvetings,  its  gesticulations,  its 
wild  plunges. 

Down  into  the  Chantay  Seeche,  all  a-suds 
from  the  recent  bombardment,  the  specter 
swooped,  and  then  came  a  mighty  struggling 
and  floundering. 

Surely  no  more  ignominious  death  could  be 
furnished  the  offspring  of  a  noble  house  than 
to  be  held  down  by  a  tent  and  drowned  in 
two  feet  of  water! 

We  sprang,  nay,  we  flew  to  his  assistance, 
for  once  on  our  feet  the  wind  scurried  us 
ahead  whether  we  would  or  no.  We  spaud- 
ered  and  slid  over  the  slippery  mud,  like  nov- 
ices on  skates,  and  we  should  have  over-shot 
our  quarry  but  that  we  grabbed  at  the  tent 
in  passing. 

'Now,  it  turned  out  to  be  in  nowise  so  easy 
181 


TROLLEY  FOLLY, 

to  get  the  man  out  as  you  might  think,  for  the 
moment  we  lifted  a  fold  of  the  canvas  it 
caught  the  air  like  a  kite,  and  down  we  went, 
under  it,  or  over  it,  as  the  case  appeared.  In 
the  former  instance,  it  was  no  small  job  for  us 
to  get  ourselves  out  again,  let  alone  helping 
Cunningham.  The  very  devil  was  in  the  tent, 
and  it  began  to  look  as  if  the  man  would  be 
drowned  right  under  our  hands,  when  it  oc- 
curred to  me  to  cut  the  knot  of  our  complica- 
tions. 

I  passed  my  knife  over  a  bulging  place 
which  I  judged  held  some  part  of  the  victim, 
and  instantly  the  head  of  James  Cecil  R.  DeG. 
Cunningham  popped  through  the  opening — 
a  head  from  whose  mouse-colored  whiskers 
and  long  nose  the  water  dripped  pathetically, 
and  which  regarded  us  with  injured  but  va- 
cant near-sighted  eyes. 

Poor  Cunny!  His  mind  must  have  been 
thoroughly  addled  by  the  events  of  the  morn- 

182 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

ing,  for  the  first  words  he  spoke — in  the  tone 
of  one  declining  an  ice — were:  "I  don't  like 
this  kind  of  thing  at  all,  y'  know!" 

"You  don't,  eh?"  said  Billy.  "Well,  if  it's 
the  last  act,  I'm  going  to  laugh." 

He  surely  did  laugh,  and  I  with  him.  We 
howled,  and  splashed,  and  slapped  our  legs 
until  we  were  too  weak  to  stand  up,  and  then 
we  sat  right  down  in  the  water.  Cunny  set 
up  a  stentorian  "haw-haw"  out  of  pure  good 
nature,  and  the  sight  of  him,  with  his  tent 
around  him  like  a  toga,  full  of  dignity,  but 
willing  to  oblige,  as  usual,  went  near  to  finish 
us. 

"Don't  look  at  me,  Cunny,  don't!"  begged 
Billy.  "If  you  look  at  me  again  like  that, 
I'll  die  right  here!" 

"Very  good!  Very  good,  indeed!  Haw, 
haw,  haw!"  replied  Cunningham. 

In  the  middle  of  the  hilarity  there  came  a 
hail  from  the  river  bank  in  a  voice  of  wonder. 

183 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

It  was  Antelope  Pete,  mounted,  on  his  way  to 
Billy's  to  compare  notes  on  the  morning's 
flood. 

Now,  Antelope  is  a  very  serious-minded 
man  for  the  country,  and  it  wouldn't  be  well 
to  repeat  all  the  different  things  he  said  might 
happen  him  if  he  ever  saw  the  like  of  this 
before. 

"Do  you  fellows  always  go  out  in  the  middle 
of  the  river  to  crack  jokes  in  thunder-storms?" 
he  demanded.  "What  in  blazes  is  the  matter 
with  you,  anyhow?" 

We  tried  to  explain,  but  we  couldn't  get 
three  words  out  before  we  were  in  roars  again, 
and  Pete  was  perfectly  disgusted. 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  leave,"  said  he.  "I've 
got  something  else  better  to  do  besides  sitting 
here  watching  the  most  all-fired,  copper-riv- 
eted, three-ply,  double-backed-action  damn 
fools  that  it  was  ever  my  luck  to  come  acrost." 

We  prevailed  upon  him,  however,  to  throw 
184 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

us  his  rope,  and  as  Cunningham  was  so  fear- 
fully and  wonderfully  entangled  in  the  tent 
that  it  would  have  been  next  to  impossible  to 
extricate  him,  we  tied  the  line  to  a  corner  of 
the  tent.  Antelope  then  laid  the  quirt  on  his 
cayuse,  and  man  and  mansion  were  hauled  up 
the  bank  together. 

When  we  reached  a  state  of  mind  where  we 
could  discuss  the  matter  calmly,  we  asked 
Cunningham  if  he  still  intended  to  live  in 
the  tent.  Oh,  yes,  yes,  indeed !  The  tent  was 
all  right;  it  was  the  wind  that  was  wrong. 
Then  followed  a  learned  disquisition  on  vacu- 
ums, and  worlds,  and  other  meteorological 
phenomena  which  stumped  us  completely. 
Indeed,  it  came  to  my  mind  that  Cunningham 
almost  proved  that  he  and  the  tent  never 
went  into  the  Chantay  Seeche. 

Part  of  his  theory  which  I  can  remember 
is  that  the  wind,  in  passing  over  the  coulee, 
partially  exhausted  the  air  beneath  it,  like  the 

185 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

action  of  an  atomizer,  he  explained  to  our 
unscientific  minds.  And  thus  Tent  Cunning- 
ham was  drawn  up  and  on  to  disaster  most 
unlawfully.  The  idea  of  Cunningham  and 
the  tent  being  "atomized"  into  the  creek  strikes 
me  as  being  particularly  good.  I  feel  still 
more  entertained  when  I  think  of  the  tin  cans, 
the  ham,  the  bacon,  the  lantern,  the  little  sheet- 
iron  cooking-stove,  various  articles  of  cloth- 
ing, et  cetera,  which  were  included  in  the 
spray. 

It  is  perhaps  needless  to  add  that  the  gather- 
ing of  all  these  was  the  work  of  most  of  a 
morning.  I  don't  believe  I  ever  saw  anything 
more  pathetic  than  the  little  stove  stranded 
on  a  bar  some  distance  down  the  river,  its  tiny 
legs  lifted  in  appeal  to  the  now  speckless 
heavens.  Perhaps  it  was  thinking  of  the  un- 
timely fate  of  the  frying  pan  and  kettle  that 
had  warmed  themselves  at  its  fires  so  often. 

When  Cunningham  gazed  upon  this  jet- 
186 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

tisoned  cargo  his  face  betrayed  his  feelings. 
His  soul,  which  loved  cleanliness,  order,  and 
system  with  a  blind  worship,  revolted.  One 
could  see  that  it  was  in  his  mind  for  the  mo- 
ment to  "jump  the  country,"  but  it  passed. 
The  determination  and  courage  which  were 
at  the  bottom  of  the  man's  nature  rose  in  force, 
and  he  busied  himself  in  restoring  the  former 
status,  singing  a  loud  air  without  any  tune 
to  it,  the  while.  The  territory  of  Dakota  was 
a  large  country — some  of  the  belongings  never 
appeared  again.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  that 
Cunningham's  card-case  may  have  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  a  wandering  Indian,  and  thus 
spread  the  refinements  of  civilization. 

It  seemed  that  our  friend  was  going  to  buck 
the  elements  on  first  principles — put  up  the 
tent  in  the  same  old  way,  and  have  it  blown 
to  Halifax  in  the  same  old  way  to  a  dead  cer- 
tainty. There  was  no  more  use  in  trying  to 
argue  with  him  on  the  subject  than  if  it  were 

187 


TROLLEY   FOLLY, 

a  question  of  politics;  but  Billy,  who  used 
more  tact  in  one  minute  than  I  could  under- 
stand in  ten,  turned  the  point  without  the  least 
friction. 

He  asked  Cunningham  to  expound  the  the- 
ory of  the  levitation  of  the  tent  again.  It  was 
done,  at  length,  and  breadth,  and  thickness. 

"Now,  as  I  understand  it,"  said  Billy,  "a 
vacuum's  a  place  where  there  ain't  anything, 
and  when  things  try  to  get  in  it  makes  trouble 
— are  my  sights  at  the  right  elevation?" 

I  assured  him  he  was  correct  so  far. 

"Well,  then,  see  here,  Cunny,  why  don't 
you  kind  of  fill  in  around  the  tent  with  sods? 
You  can't  make  much  of  a  vacuum  out  of  good 
deep-cut  sods,  I'll  bet  my  wardrobe.  You 
see  the  place  where  the  vacuum  would  have 
to  be,  to  do  you  dirt,  will  be  occupied  and  it 
can  vacuumize  all  it  wants  to  around  the 
prairie  after  that,  and  you  needn't  care." 

188 


CAMP   CUNNINGHAM 

"An  ex-cellent  idea!"  cried  Cunningham. 
"I  thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Wykam." 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Tent  Cunningham 
was  surrounded  by  a  wall  of  sod  eight  feet 
high  and  four  feet  thick.  The  only  criticism 
I  heard  was  from  a  stranger  who  put  up  at 
Billy's  for  a  while. 

One  morning  he  came  in  and  took  me  by 
the  shoulder,  "Come  with  me,"  he  said.  We 
went  on  until  Tent  Cunningham  hove  in  sight. 

"I've  seen  lots  of  what  strikes  me  as  strange 
things  in  this  country,"  the  stranger  said,  "but 
that  place  knocks  the  spots  off  the  cards. 
Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  what 
that  wild-Injun-peaceful-settler  contraption 
is?" 

"That?"  I  asked  with  a  sober  face.  "Why, 
that's  Camp  Cunningham." 

"I  dare  say  it  is,"  he  returned.  "But  that 
ain't  the  point  I  was  looking  for.  What  I 

189 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

want  to  know  is,  why  did  the  population  go 
to  all  the  trouble  of  building  a  sod  house,  and 
then  put  up  a  tent  inside  of  it?" 

"Merely  a  question  of  taste — it's  his  hun- 
dred and  sixty;  why  shouldn't  he  build  what 
he  likes  on  it?" 

"That's  so,  too,"  replied  the  stranger.  "Ex- 
cuse me  for  meddling;  it's  a  free  country,  if 
ever  there  was  one." 

So  the  matter  dropped  right  there. 


190 


IX 

HOHANKTON,  PETTIE  AND 
OTHERS 

THE  TALE  OF  THE  TRAINED  PIG 

you  remember  Red's  pig,  Foxy 
Bill?"  said  Hydraulic  Smith.  "Well, 
I  was  in  a  camp  that  had  a  pig  for  its  chief 
feature,  myself.  He  wasn't  a  fat,  comfortable 
old  lad  like  Foxy  Bill,  but  a  sort  of  cross  be- 
tween a  razor-back  and  a  buffalo.  He  was  a 
little  feller,  with  a  mane  on  his  head  and  on 
his  shoulders.  He  had  high  shoulders  on 
him,  like  a  buffalo,  but,  as  for  the  rest  of  him, 
he  was  that  thin  you  wouldn't  have  known 
him  for  a  pig,  except  for  the  curly  tail  at  the 
end. 

"He  was  our  sole  and  only  pet.  We  was  too 
high  in  the  air  for  cats.  They  died  of  heart 
disease.  Nobody  owned  a  dog.  We  called 

191 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

piggie  Johanus  Eliphas  Hohankton  for  a 
noted  statesman  in  that  part  of  the  country,  a 
great  man  on  the  pension  vote  (believe  he 
drew  three  himself),  that  told  us  politics  with 
one  wooden  leg  and  a  mouthful  of  language 
trying  to  gurgle  through  Greaser  Pepe's  gin. 

"I  think  Hohankton  discovered  the  lack  of 
dogs  in  town,  for  he  tried  to  act  the  part  as 
much  as  he  could.  He'd  go  trotting  up  Main 
Street,  kind  of  sniffing  at  you  and  rolling  his 
eyes,  give  two  or  three  squeals  like  a  dog, 
when  you  called  to  him,  then  sometimes  he'd 
go  mosying  around  important,  full  of  his  own 
business,  just  as  you  see  dogs  do. 

"He  took  care  of  the  coats  and  the  lunch- 
boxes.  If  a  stranger  came  around  he'd  show 
his  tusk  with  his  lip  all  curled  up,  and  growl 
something  ferocious.  He  was  a  right  smart 
animal.  I  can  see  him  now,  going  the  lengths 
of  Main  Street,  sounding  like  a  busted  clarinet 
player  telling  his  woes  in  music,  to  let  you 

192 


HOHANKTON 

know  he  was  there,  and  that  if  there  was  a 
doughnut  or  some  apple-sass,  or,  in  fact,  al- 
most anything  that  a  hog  might  like,  you  could 
please  your  friend  Hohankton  by  putting  it 
forth. 

"But  nothing  in  the  world  would  get  him 
fat.  He  was  built  like  a  fish,  fore  and  aft, 
and  in  a  straightaway  I  think  he  could  hold  a 
jack-rabbit. 

"The  Judge,  he  was  a  heavy-built  old  man 
who  wore  his  chin  on  his  breast  most  of  the 
time.  When  Hank  walked  alongside  of  him 
he  hunched  up  his  back  like  the  Judge,  and 
put  on  much  the  same  expression,  until  the 
Judge  rumbled  out,  'Durn  that  hawg!'  and 
give  him  a  scratch  on  the  back  with  his  cane. 

"Then,  if  there  was  a  lively  bunch,  why, 
Hank  was  merry,  too.  He  would  trot  and 
amble  with  one  side,  and  gallop  with  the 
other,  make  prancing  steps,  biting  at  his  own 
tail  till  an  oyster'd  laugh. 

193 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

"We  had  miles  of  claims  on  the  bank.  The 
pay  was  light,  howsomever,  and  you  had  to 
send  about  twenty  acres  down  the  stream  to 
get  enough  to  pay  the  hands  off.  We  had 
plenty  of  water  on  a  two-hundred-foot  fall, 
or  it  wouldn't  have  paid  for  the  trouble. 

"Howsomever,  we  sent  an  almighty  lot  of 
farm  land  down  where  the  ranchers  didn't 
want  it.  They  objected  to  our  covering  their 
vegetables  with  four  solid  foot  of  tailings,  con- 
sequently they  kicked  like  anything,  but  it  was 
just  mine  job  against  vegetable  job,  and  after 
the  law  courts  had  been  worn  out  and  decided: 

The  rose  is  red,  the  sky  is  blue ; 

We  don't  know  nothing,  no  more'n  you, 

and  everybody  had  an  injunction  out  against 
somebody  else,,  which  he  couldn't  enforce, 
why  it  came  back  to  our  old  friend,  physical 
trouble,  again.  The  farmers  outnumbered 
us,  but  we  ranked  in  the  first  class  for  physical 

194 


HOHANKTON 

trouble,  so  there  hadn't  been  anything  but  an 

x 

exchange  of  personal  remarks. 

"There  was  just  one  rancher,  who  grew  too 
fast  when  he  was  young,  and  then  stopped  too 
quick  after  he  grew  up,  came  at  us  fierce.  He 
called  us  all  kinds  of  twisted  crooks  and 
straight-out  thieves  he  could  think  of.  He 
had  it  in  for  me  particular.  Once,  as  he  got 
to  putting  it  on  me,  he  grew  excited,  and  be- 
gan to  swing  an  ax  around.  He  came  nigh 
hitting  the  stream  one  or  two  passes,  and  I 
told  him: 

"  'You  jay  bird,  you'll  be  a-sitting  and  a- 
singing  on  a  limb  if  you  monkey  with  that 
little  squirt  of  water.  You  are  perfectly  safe 
from  me  during  working-hours,  but  don't  fool 
with  our  piping  lay.' 

"Not  one  man  in  a  million  knows  what  a 
stream  of  water  can  do,  and  he  was  one  of  the 
million  that  didn't.  So  he  r'ared  up  and  said 
he  would  splash  the  water  over  me,  and  he 

195 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

raised  his  ax.  I  had  half  a  mind  to  turn  the 
lever  and  squirt  him  over  the  neighboring 
bluff,  but  I  had  pity  in  my  soul,  so  I  hollers, 
'Don't!' 

"But  them  words  was  too  late.  He  is  one  of 
the  very  few  men  who  will  ever  tell  anybody 
how  he  tried  cutting  a  hydraulic  stream  in 
two.  While  he  was  blasting  me  he  wandered 
about,  sitting  on  his  horse  loose ;  the  ax  came 
down.  I  was  looking  right  plumb  at  him,  but 
just  how,  when  and  in  what  way  he  disap- 
peared I  will  never  tell  you. 

"I  followed  the  direction  of  the  stream  until 
I  found  him.  He  was  curled  up  on  his  back, 
about  half  the  ax  handle  in  his  hand.  Soon 
as  I  came  in  sight  he  hollered,  'Whoa!'  I 
stared  at  him.  I  come  a  little  nearer,  and  he 
yelled  'Whoa!'  again,  and  tried  to  scramble 
to  his  feet.  I  learned  afterward  that  he'd  been 
a  mule-skinner  for  a  while  and  thought  his 
team  had  turned  on  him. 

196 


HOHANKTON 

"I  grabbed  him  by  the  neck.  'Now,  you 
horny-headed  son  of  toil,'  I  said  to  him, 
'you've  learned  one  thing  to-day.  Keep  on 
doing  that  for  three  thousand,  six  hundred  and 
seventy-five  days  in  the  year  and  by  the  end 
of  that  time  you  won't  put  your  thumb  on  the 
buzz-saw.' 

"  'You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  a  stream  of 
water  done  that!'  he  gasps  out. 

"  'You  have  three  shies  at  it,'  I  said.  'I'll 
furnish  the  axes,  and  every  time  that  stream 
doesn't  knock  you  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
you  get  a  new  cigar.  Want  to  buy  in  the 
game?'  I  shambled  him  off  to  his  wagon  and 
dumped  him  in. 

"He  laid  low  for  his  revenge,  like  the 
darned  farmer  he  was,  and  meanwhile  Ho- 
hankton  was  the  cause  of  our  undoing.  Ani- 
mals have  a  heap  more  sense  about  natural 
things  than  men  has.  Hank  got  in  the  way  of 
following  the  boys  over  to  the  side  of  the 

197 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

creek.  You  know  I  used  to  undercut  the  bank 
while  the  boys  worked  the  big  stone  out  for 
me  and  loosened  up  the  dirt  here  and  there. 
They  was  as  careless  fellows  as  you'd  see. 
Yet,  at  the  same  time,  no  man  wants  an  eighty- 
foot  bank  of  dirt  on  top  of  him,  and  so  they'd 
be  quite  anxious  in  their  minds  for  about  five 
minutes  before  the  slide  came. 

"The  first  day  Hank  went  over  there  he 
threw  up  his  head  as  though  he  smelled  some- 
thing, straightened  his  tail,  grunted  loud  and 
away  he  went.  The  boys  near  got  pinched 
looking  at  him  and  laughing.  When  they 
went  back,  Hank  went  back,  and  the  next  time 
he  blew  his  signal  everybody  departed.  We 
were  not  such  a  swell-headed  crowd  we 
couldn't  learn  a  thing  from  an  animal.  Hank, 
old  boy  Rocks,  was  just  as  right  as  he  was 
before,  and  after  that  he  took  up  his  position 
as  Official  Notifier  and  he  never  went  wrong. 
The  boys  could  work  right  along  till  they 

198 


HOHANKTON 

heard  that  squeal,  and  then  do  fast  time  to  the 
creek. 

"We  was  proud  enough  of  Hanky  before, 
but  now  he  had  this  actual  stunt  of  his  that 
we  could  prove  to  any  or  all  lookers-on,  our 
chests  stuck  out  till  the  buttons  popped  off. 
Other  fellows  would  drop  in  with  stories  of 
dogs  that  had  done  all  the  wonderful  things 
that  you  have  heard  tell  of,  and  cats  that  used 
to  milk  cows,  and  horses  that  could  figure  up 
to  six  times  six,  and  all  them  lovely  relations 
that  gets  to  be  natural  history  around  the 
camps,  and  we  could  stand  for  it  and  say  'Yes,' 
just  as  if  we  believed  it. 

"Then  we'd  remark  we  had  a  pig  in  camp ; 
and  wouldn't  say  anything  more  until  Hank 
signaled,  and  the  visitor  would  begin  to  open 
his  mouth  to  see  everybody  a-running,  asking 
why.  Then  down  come  the  bank! 

"Usually  the  stranger  went  and  put  up 
money  that  it  wouldn't  happen  again.  After 

199 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

three  times,  though,  he'd  let  go,  scratching  his 
head  and  meditating:  'It's  so — I  see  it's  so, 
but  how  the  blazes  a  pig  knows  more  about 
the  acts  of  gravitation  than  a  white  man — you 
tell  me  now?'  And  we'd  answer  we  weren't 
going  to  tell  him.  Let  him  find  out,  same  as 
we  did. 

"Well,  he'd  admit  in  a  kind  of  grudging 
way  that  that  pig  of  ours  was  quite  a  curiosity. 
Yes,  he'd  admit  it,  in  a  sort  of  easy,  offhand 
style,  that  old  Hank  was  quite  a  curiosity,  and 
we  didn't  have  to  say  anything. 

"They  would  go  on  from  Placerville,  work- 
ing the  yarn  up,  until  fifty  mile  away  it 
seemed  we  had  a  pig  that  could  smell  a  pay 
streak,  always  pointing,  like  a  pointer  dog, 
when  he  smelled  the  gold;  that  he  usually 
walked  back  home  on  the  hydraulic  stream, 
and  that  when  it  was  time  for  a  bank  to  fall 
he  would  make  sounds  that  sounded  so  much 
like  'Look  out!'  that  you  couldn't  hardly  tell 

200 


HOHANKTON 

the  difference  from  a  man's  yelling  it,  except 
that  it  had  a  kind  of  pig  brogue  to  it,  as  it 
were,  and  so  forth. 

"We  didn't  have  to  advertise  Hank  one  par- 
ticle; even  that  gol-darned  farmer  heard  of  it, 
and  slouched  around  on  the  quiet  till  he  see 
how  things  lay. 

"Well,  here's  the  way  he  come  near  getting 
even.  If  there's  anything  I  ever  really  did 
love  it  is  to  get  my  hands  on  a  monitor  lever 
and  just  feel  that  old  streak  of  water  flying 
across,  smacking,  gargling  and  gurgling  in  the 
earth,  ripping  her  out,  mud  and  suds  a-flying 
all  over,  rocks  going,  too,  and  just  a  little 
touch  bringing  the  blade  in  the  stream  and 
swinging  her  around,  because,  you  know,  four 
men  couldn't  turn  that  nozzle  by  bull 
strength,  where  just  a  little  blade  that  cut  into 
it  at  each  side  made  it  turn  like  a  delicate 
vine. 

"Now,  I  liked  that  as  well  as  when  I  used 
201 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

to  live  back  East  in  a  little  old  town  up  in 
New  York,  and  it  was  my  job  to  water  the 
front  street,  and  when  there  come  a  carriage 
along  I  always  used  to  be  absent-minded 
somehow,  and  that  carriage  would  run  right 
into  the  water,  and  then  them  good  old  aunts 
of  mine  used  to  explain  it,  how  absent-minded 
I  was,  and  the  ladies  that  got  wet  wouldn't 
listen  to  it,  and  the  nigger  coachman  and  I  had 
it  around  the  barn  fast.  Well,  I  was  just  the 
same  kind  of  kid  again  when  the  monitor  was 
playing,  and  the,  sun  was  shining,  and  the 
clouds  was  sailing,  and  the  grass  was  grow- 
ing, and  everything  that  ought  to  happen  was 
happening. 

"Yes,  my  mind  was  in  an  A-i  condition, 
peace  and  good-will  toward  men,  and  every- 
thing else,  when  all  of  a  sudden  Hank  gives 
his  three  locomotive  whistles,  and  pulls  for 
the  shore,  followed  by  twenty  grown-up  men, 
falling  over  bushes,  jumping  over  boulders, 

202 


HOHANKTON 

galloping  and  waving  their  arms  in  wild  ex- 
citement, Hank  far  in  the  lead. 

"  'What  in  thunder?'  I  said  to  myself. 
'That  bank  ain't  nowise  loosening;'  when  I 
happened  to  look  down,  and  there,  on  a  little 
bench,  clapping  his  hands,  sat  that  guerrilla- 
faced,  swivel-jointed  rancher,  and  there  was 
coming  up  to  him  a  black-and-tan  dog,  no  big- 
ber'n  three  rats.  He  couldn't  see  me,  and  the 
boys  couldn't  see  him.  They  watched  for  that 
bank  to  fall,  and  there  wasn't  any  fall,  and 
they  waited,  and  they  began  cussing  their  good 
old  friend  Hank,  that  had  never  failed  them 
once  before. 

"When  I  thought  of  Hank  being  thus 
abused,  just  because  a  cussed  little  dog — a  kind 
of  beast  he  ain't  never  seen  in  his  life  before 
— has  run  him  out,  my  fighting-blood  began 
to  run  quick  all  around  my  veins  and  arteries, 
and  I  thinks  to  myself,  'Oh,  you  gol-darn  po- 
tato-bug assassin!  You  slayer  of  squ'sh  bugs! 

203 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

Here's  where  you  get  the  thirty-third  degree 
of  Free  and  Accepted  Masonry  with  all  its 
tips,  spurs,  right-angles  and  variations — so 
mote  it  be!' 

"It  wasn't  the  hour  for  blue  checks  to 
run  in  my  direction.  I  grabbed  the  elevator 
wheel  and  sent  the  stream  heavenward,  started 
her  swinging,  hoping  to  drop  it  right  on  the 
back  of  Mr.  Rancher's  neck.  I  didn't  intend 
to  push  him  into  the  bank  and  hold  him  there. 
No,  I  was  the  slickest  boy  handling  a  stream 
the  country  contained,  and  I  thought,  per- 
haps, I  could  hit  him  in  the  neck  with  about 
seven  hundred  assorted  tons  of  water,  and 
leave  his  hat  hanging  in  the  air.  I  wanted  to 
do  something  real  nice  to  him. 

"Well,  it  was  me  that  got  it.  I  always  told 
the  Boss  he  didn't  load  the  tripod  heavy 
enough.  When  I  sent  the  stream  up  she  tee- 
tered for  fair.  It  was  like  a  camel  buck- 
jumping.  There  ain't  much  give  to  three  iron 

204 


HOHANKTON 

legs,  and  so,  friends,  I  was  sitting  up  and  down 
times  oftener  than  I  could  realize. 

"There  wasn't  a  bronc'  buster  that  wouldn't 
have  yelled,  'He's  a  rider!'  if  he'd  seen  me 
stick  to  that  machine.  We  crow-hopped  on 
the  rocks  back  and  forwards,  and  alleman'  all. 
We  pitched  forward  and  back,  and  we  did  the 
double  teeter,  and  as  for  the  stream — the 
smack  when  she  hit  things  sounded  just  like 
a  little  small  giant  baby,  nine  hundred  feet 
high,  clapping  his  hands  with  glee.'  Some- 
times through  the  whiz  and  howl  I  could  hear 
men's  voices  asking  why  I  done  so,  and  they 
no  longer  sounded  like  the  voices  of  comrades 
and  friends. 

"I  was  helpless  as  a  child;  couldn't  grab 
lever,  wheel  nor  nothing.  Finally  one  leg 
toppled  off  an  edge  of  rock  and  then — ! 
Well,  she  shot  the  cook's  shanty  across  the 
stream  two  hundred  yards  first  whack.  It  was 
so  sudden  it  didn't  even  put  the  fire  out.  The 

205 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

boys  took  their  solemn  oaths  the  kitchen  stove 
went  across,  smoking  as  calm  and  peaceful  as 
anything,  just  like  it  had  decided  to  take  a  lit- 
tle fly.  Nothing  to  interrupt  business,  but  just 
the  kind  of  exercise  you  would  think  a  cook- 
stove  would  take.  Yet  they  was"  astonished 
that  I  should  shoot  a  cook-stove  across  the 
stream. 

"While  they  was  standing  there  astonished, 
the  old  nozzle  bucked  'way  back,  and  plowed 
a  well  in  a  bank  ten  feet  away.  I  bet  you  that 
stream  could  shoot  a  hole  right  up  Niagara 
Falls,  and  when  she  mixed  it  with  the  mess  of 
dirt  and  rock  in  that  bank,  kicking  it  back- 
wards at  me,  old  Napoleon  at  Waterloo  was  a 
dum  poor  effigy  for  Hy  Smith.  I  couldn't 
see  how  it  was  ever  going  to  be  possible  for 
me  to  breathe  again,  and  the  awful  roar  and 
swatting  and  smashing  makes  it  queer  how  I 
ever  got  to  hear  or  think  again. 

"But   she    passed    through    that    bank   of 
206 


HOHANKTON 

dirt  in  no  time,  and  all  the  fellows  that  was 
asking,  'Where's  he  gone?'  found  out.  They 
got  the  last  of  the  bank.  Men  could  show  you 
dents  where  pebbles  no  bigger'n  buckshot  had 
been  blown  into  them. 

"The  old  monitor  got  real  gay,  and  thought 
she  was  a  Fourth  of  July  pin-wheel,  and  after 
that  there  was  nothing  but  water-works  on 
the  whole  cussed  creek.  She  took  from  one 
side  to  the  other  in  quick  swings.  Billy,  the 
cook,  said  he  saw  a  block  of  boards  take  wings 
and  sail  right  over  Hooker's  Mountain. 

"I  was  dumbfuzzled  and  geewhizzled,  till 
my  head  was  full  of  curled  hair  and  insect 
powder.  I  hung  on  with  all  hands  and  feet 
by  instinct,  like  an  insect,  until  finally  we 
steadied  down  and  played  in  the  same  place 
for  half  a  minute,  and  I  brushed  some  of  the 
water  out  of  my  eyes. 

"Beside  me  was  Hank,  looking  reproachful, 
as  much  as  to  say,  'I  thought  you  knew  your 

207 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

limit,  Hy — but  you  must  have  stayed  in  town 
too  long  last  time.' 

"Then  the  next  thing  that  appeared  was 
that  darned  little  black-and-tan  dog  that  had 
caused  the  whole  trouble,  followed  by  our 
friend,  the  rancher.  I  pined  to  wash  his 
whiskers.  But  it  was  not  to  be.  The  monitor 
had  jacked  all  her  levers  and  cogs  by  knock- 
ing around. 

"  'Come  on,'  I  yelped  to  the  crowd — 'Come 
on,  you  flapjack  faces  I  Help  me  hold  this 
critter  down.' 

"They  got  a  move  on.  We  tied  the  monitor 
and  sent  word  to  shut  off  the  water.  Whilst 
we  was  all  stepping  on  each  other's  feet,  I 
thought  I  heard  a  mixture  of  sounds  like  small 
roars  and  large  'Ki-yi's,'  but  the  farmer,  he 
was  very  busy,  thinking  we  might  catch  on 
to  who  did  all  this,  and  come  down  to  his 
cabin  some  night  and  take  his  whiskers  as  a 
momentum. 

208 


HOHANKTON 

"I  had  been  pounded  enough,  so  one  of  the 
lads  took  my  place.  I  stepped  out.  There 
was  a  battle  going  on.  That  cussed  little 
black-and-tan  terrier  was  snapping  and  flying 
around  poor  old  Hohankton,  that  had  never 
received  anything  hut  kind  treatment  in  his 
life,  and  scarcely  knew  what  to  make  of  this. 
I  hate  a  black-and-tan  dog,  anyway.  I  like 
to  see  a  dog  with  legs  big  enough  and  long 
enough  to  support  his  body,  and  with  a  body 
hefty  enough  to  give  the  legs  something  to  do. 
This  yapping  little  devil  didn't  have  none  of 
my  sympathies.  When  I  looked  at  the  miser- 
able beast  I  felt  something  had  to  happen  to 
him. 

"Just  then  he  made  a  quick  jump  and  nailed 
old  Hank  by  the  nose,  and  at  the  very  same 
minute  somebody  hollered  for  me  to  come 
and  fix  something. 

"After  I  pounded  my  thumb  and  wrenched 
my  wrist  getting  the  lever  back  in  some  shape 

209 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

again,  they  stopped  the  water  off,  and  the 
country  was  saved ! 

"Then  I  grabbed  that  farmer  and  began  to 
recite  facts  about  his  career,  while  the  boys 
spit  on  their  hands  and  took  hold  of  shovels. 
It  looked  like  uncle  farmer  would  lead  an  up- 
right life  for  some  time,  but  he  begged  and 
hollered  and  pled,  so  the  fellows  loosed  him 
from  the  position  where  we  could  best  apply 
shovels,  and  he  explained  that  he  didn't  go 
for  to  do  all  this  when  he  started,  and  we  let 
him  up. 

"He  rose  to  his  feet  and  apologized  to  us, 
singly  and  collectively,  and  then  he  says, 
'Now  I'll  just  get  little  Pettie  and  ride  right 
along  home,'  and  he  began  to  holler,  Tettie! 
Pettie!  Pettie!'  and  all  that  come  was  old 
Hank,  who  looked  him  straight  in  the  face. 

"  Well,  what  has  become  of  the  durn  little 
coyote?'  says  everybody,  and  then  it  just  oc- 
curred to  me  that  I  knew,  so  I  went  back  to 

210 


'Little  Pettie  has  departed,"  I  said.     Page  211 


HOHANKTON 

where  I  had  seen  little  Pettie  grab  old  Hank 
by  the  nose,  and,  sure  enough,  there  was  a 
lovely  little  black  tail! 

"I  brought  it  down  to  the  rancher  and  I 
said,  'Little  Pettie  has  departed,  but  he,  she 
or  it  leaves  this  for  you  as  a  souvenir.' 

"The  rancher  says,  'Gosh  almighty!'  as  if 
he  couldn't  believe  his  eyes.  I  held  up  the 
tail,  and  I  asked  Hank: 

"  'Here,  little  Hanky-Panky,  did  it  eat  the 
rest  of  little  Pettie?'  and  Hank  looked  at  the 
tail  and  slouched  off,  with  a  kind  of  long  and 
non-complaining  squeal. 

"  Well,'  says  the  Boss,  brisk,  'if  we  find  any 
more  of  little  Pettie  we'll  send  it  down  to  you, 
but  I  guess  that's  all  you  can  collect  of  him 


now.' 


"  Well,  darnation!'  said  the  farmer,  and  he 
brushed  off  the  dust  and  dirt  of  his  hands  on 
his  trousers'  leg.  'Well,  say,'  says  he,  'I  don't 
know  whether  to  weep  or  to  yell  Hosanna! 

211 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

As  for  me,  personally,'  he  said,  'that  cussed 
little  dog  has  nigh  chewed  my  fingers  off,'  and 
he  showed  us  all  kinds  of  bites  on  his  fingers ; 
'but,'  he  says,  'on  the  other  hand,  it's  my  wife's 
pet,  and  every  time  one  of  the  children  lets 
itself  get  bit  by  it,  why,  their  mother  raises 
sin  with  them  for  tormentin'  it.  If  I  had  a 
good  lie  ready  I  wouldn't  weep  one  bit.  But 
the  circumstances  and  hullabaloos  and  water- 
falls and  geysers  I  have  seen  in  the  last  twenty 
minutes  have  left  my  mind  running  in  streaks.' 

"We  all  looked  at  one  another.  We  couldn't 
think  of  anything,  so  we  shook  our  heads. 

"  'Well,'  said  he,  'perhaps  by  the  time  I  get 
home  I  will  be  able  to  explain  how  little  Pet- 
tie  separated  himself  from  this,'  and  he  twirled 
the  last  remains.  'Perhaps  I  can,'  he  said.  'I 
don't  bear  you  boys  the  slightest  grudge  no 
more.  I  can't.  I  set  this  dog  on  your  pig 
a-purpose,  and  I  can't  pretend  to  be  at  all 

212 


HOHANKTON 

sorry  that  your  pig  et  him  up.'  He  shook  his 
head  again,  and  fixed  his  hat  on. 

"  Well,'  says  he,  'matrimony  is  the  mother 
of  invention.  I  reckon  I'll  get  out  of  it  some- 
how. Good-by,  boys  I'  And  he  took  one  more 
look  at  Pettie's  tail  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 
'If  anything  happens  to  me  you  will  know 
who  it  is  by  that,'  said  he. 

"As  for  the  rest  of  us,  we  enjoyed  ourselves 
figuring  on  just  what  that  rancher  could  ex- 
plain. You  can  bring  home  a  dog  and  say 
its  tail  has  been  cut  off  someway,  but  to  bring 
home  a  tail  and  say  the  dog  has  been  cut  off 
someway  is  a  hard  proposition  to  work  on  the 
female  mind  that  has  lived  on  a  ranch  twenty 
years  or  so." 


213 


X 

THE  FATAL  GUM 

A  SERIO-COMEDY  OF  LIGHT  FINGERS  AND 
HEAVY  BOOTS 


SCRAGGS  had  been  working  out 
on  the  dry  patch,  where  it  was  a  long 
ways  between  drinks,  and  lukewarm  water 
from  a  canteen  no  particular  comfort.  He 
complained,  and  I  produced  a  discovery  in 
the  shape  of  a  tin-foil-wrapped  package  of 
chewing-gum  marked  "Lily  Sweet." 

"If  you  chew  a  piece  of  that  when  you're 
dry,  Scraggy,"  I  said,  "it  will  stave  off  thirst 
for  some  time." 

Mr.  Scraggs  received  the  offering  in  his 
large  palm,  and  poked  it  with  the  forefinger 
of  his  other  hand. 

"Yaas,"  he  said;  "y-a-a-s.  But  it's  dan- 
gerous." 

214. 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

"Dangerous?" 

"Horrible.  You  don't  ketch  me  minglin' 
myself  with  no  'Lily  Sweets.'  7  consider  the 
lily  of  the  field  how  she  grows.  You  wouldn't 
believe  that  anything  that  sounds  so  innercent 
could  be  the  tee-total  ruin  of  a  large,  dark- 
complected  tin-horn,  with  a  pair  of  muss- 
taches  like  Injun-polished  buffler  horns, 
would  you?" 

Like  almost  anybody  else  would  have  done, 
I  said  I  wouldn't. 

"Well,  it  was,"  said  Zeke.  "If  you  could 
see  that  gam,  and  compare  him  to  this  here 
package  of  choon'-gum,  you  wouldn't  ever 
guess  that  either  one  could  do  much  of  any- 
thing to  t'other;  yet  I  can  a  tale  relate  of  that 
combination  that  would  make  each  particler 
hair  stand  up-ended,  like  the  squills  of  the 
frightful  porkypine." 

"Rats!"  said  I,  being  but  a  youth. 

"You  got  any  hairs  that's  particler  by  na- 
215 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

ture?  No?  Well,  then,  I'll  spread  this  ter- 
rific osculation  of  the  connimgulated  forces  of 
Nature  befo'  you,  as  Charley  says.  My  kind 
of  narrative  is  the  plain,  unvarnished  tale. 
Folks  that  tell  a  varnished  tale  is  apt  to  sit 
on  the  varnish  before  it's  dry,  and  they'll  stick 
to  it,  come  cold  fact  or  red-hot  argyment; 
whilst  I'm  always  willin'  to  prune,  cross- 
harref,  revise  or  alter  accordin'  to  my  victim's 
feelin's.  That  is,  of  course,  if  they  go  to 
corner  me,  which,  between  gentlemen,  is  a 
low-cut  outrage.  But  this  business  about  the 
gam  is  dead  straight.  I  had  relinquished  all 
amusements  and  was  livin'  quiet  in  order  to 
save  money,  before  I  got  acquainted  with  the 
facts. 

"First  place,  comes  a  female  missionary  out 
to  the  ranch,  and  she  was  a  corkin'  fine-lookin' 
nice  young  woman,  too,  who  tackled  me  on 
the  subject  of  chewin'  terbackker.  She  had 
me  all  tangled  up  in  my  own  rope  and  double 

216 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

left-sided  front  and  back  before  the  clock 
struck  one. 

"I  tried  to  arger  that  nobody  wouldn't  care 
whether  I  chewed  terbackker  or  grass,  so 
long's  I  was  happy  and  doin'  no  harm.  But 
that  turned  out  not  to  be  true.  She  said 
so. 

"Then  I  tried  to  reach  her  womanly  com- 
passion by  tearfully  expoundin'  how  I'd  miss 
my  cut  of  plug  a  day;  I  never  touched  her. 
Hers  was  a  new  religion.  It  had  a  different 
figger  on  the  back  from  any  I'd  had  dealt  to 
me  before.  Seems  it  weren't  a  sin  to  chew, 
but  it  was  the  control  I'd  lost  over  myself  that 
put  me  in  the  hole.  I  had  just  to  git  com- 
mand of  my  mind  and  everything  would  come 
at  me,  like  a  North  Ca'lina  town's  nigger's 
dogs  chasin'  a  three-legged  cat  up  an  alley. 

"  'But  ma'am,'  say  I,  'I've  knocked  off  be- 
fore; an',  as  for  control  over  my  mind,  durin' 
the,  hull  spell  me  an'  Star  Plug  was  separated, 

217 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

friends  had  to  hold  me  to  prevent  me  goin'  in 
an'  robbin'  my  own  grip.  Control  of  my 
mind,'  says  I,  fightin'  noble,  'why,  you  could 
'a'  sicked  a  burglar  on  me,  an'  he  couldn't  have 
found  no  such  thing  on  my  person.  I  didn't 
have  no  mind.  I  walked  up  an'  down,  day 
and  night,  in  that  man's  town,  like  a  ravin' 
maniac  stupefied  by  his  halloocinashuns.  All 
that  passed  beneath  my  shinin'  dome  was: 
"Oh  for  a  chew!  Oh  for  a  chew!  Oh  for 
a  choo-choo-choo-choo!  Whoeep!  Brakes!" 
And  when  the  cars  went  over  the  switch  or  a 
cayuse  cantered  up,  they  said:  "Terbackker, 
terbackker,  terbackker,"  to  my  famished  ears. 
All  I  wished  was  that  the  houses  was  built  of 
plug,  and  all  I  thought  of  was  that  I  could 
get  earnest  with  an  ax.  That's  all  I  could 
think— all  1' 

"  'But  you  must  use  the  control !'  says  she, 
eager. 

"  'You  mean,  ma'am,'  I  says,  'that  I  must 
218 


"I  will  not  use  terbackker,'  says  little  Zekey  Scraggs."     Page  219 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

seek  out  a  quiet  place,  clench  my  fists,  grind 
my  teeth  to  a  feather-edge  and  strain  my  sus- 
penders to  the  bustin'  point  in  one  calamitous 
effort  to  think  I'm  not  thinking?' 

"  'Precisely!'  says  she,  victorious.  'You 
Western  men  have  such  a  ready  grip  on  essen- 
tials that  it  is  a  delight  to  be  your  guide.' 

"  Well,  Uncle  Tom  and  the  dogs  a-bitin' 
him!'  says  I  to  myself.  'Lead  on!'  I  took  off 
my  hat  aloud  and  bowed  to  within  two  of  my 
noses  to  the  ground.  'To  be  able  to  roller  so 
gentle  and  able  a  guide  straight  to  perdition 
is  a  joy,'  says  I.  'I  quit  the  class  of  roomin- 
ants  for  two  weeks.  I  will  not  use  terback- 
ker.  No!' says  little  Zekey  Scraggs.  'There's 
my  hand  on  it,  ma'am.' 

"And  she  just  turned  pink  with  joy.  She 
was  an  awful  nice  little  gal.  Only  she  was  so 
jam-full  of  knowledge  that  it  was  hard  for  her 
to  understand  things. 

"Having  put  up  this  job  on  myself,  I  went 
219 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

to  our  storekeep'  and  called  for  my  time.  I 
knew  I'd  need  bright  lights  and  excitement 
for  a  while.  I  begun  to  feel  already  that  a 
chew  wouldn't  go  bad. 

"There  was  the  storekeep'  gazin'  fixedly  at 
a  book;  his  lips  was  movin',  but  he  seemed  in 
a  kind  of  rapture.  When  I  hollered  to  him, 
he  jumped  all  over  and  barked  at  me  like  a 
dog.  At  the  same  time  he  grabbed  up  a 
cigareet,  stuck  it  in  his  mouth,  took  it  out, 
looked  at  it  and  fired  it  down  again. 

"A  light  broke  on  me.  'So  she  got  you, 
too?'  says  I. 

"  'Hooppitty  Hoppitty  Hippitty  Yer- 
hoop!'  says  he.  'That's  just  what  she's  done  I 
I'm  three  days  out.  Not  a  smell  of  smoke  in 
three  days!  My  soul  has  gone  away  and 
won't  have  any  more  truck  with  me.  I  don't 
know  who  I  am,  nor  why.  I've  been  trying 
for  an  hour  to  find  out  how  much  three  and 

220 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

two  make.  Take  your  money  and  leave  me  to 
my  fate.' 

"With  this  picture  in  my  mind  I  broke  for 
town.  Half-way  there  I  was  chawin'  a  lati- 
go-strap  like  a  wolf.  When  I  hit  the  street,  I 
jumped  through  the  drug-store  door. 

"  'What  you  got  for  a  man  that's  quit  chew- 
in'?'  I  gasps  to  the  boss. 

"  'Franky  Frenchman's  Fool-Killer,'  says 
he — and  with  that  he  turns  his  head  and  ex- 
pectorates satisfactorily  into  the  spittoon. 

"Seeing  him,  I  near  died  of  a  broken  heart. 

"  'The  next  crack  will  be  at  your  expense,' 
I  told  him.  'You  hike  out  somethin'  for  my 
case,'  I  says.  He  shoved  me  out  a  package, 
just  like  that." 

Mr.  Scraggs  poked  my  gift. 

"Just  like  that.  I  put  the  whole  bizzee  in 
my  trap  and  chomped  on  it  like  a  lion.  I 
walked  around  the  town,  chompin'  on  it.  I 

221 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

waved  my  jaws  till  my  face  ached.  Seemed  to 
me  like  I'd  never  done  anythin'  in  all  my  life 
but  bite  Injy-rubber.  And  then  I  pushed 
madly  for  the  first  stud-poker  game. 

"When  I  got  there,  nothin'  was  movin'. 
This  here  tin-horn  I  mention  was  polishing 
his  muss-tache  with  both  hands,  whilst  he 
talked  to  a  few  hangers-on. 

"I  became  ashamed  of  that  choon'-gum  and 
I  stuck  it  under  the  table,  very  sly  and  surrep- 
tishus.  I  felt  like  a  man  again. 

"  'Fire  the  engine  up !'  says  I.  'Gimme  five 
stacks  to  practise  on.' 

"The  gam  hopped  gleeful  toward  the  table 
and  give  the  drawer  a  yank.  She  stuck.  He 
cussed  and  pulled  harder.  She  came  open 
with  a  jerk  and  a  kind  of  a  long,  sticky 
s-m-aaa-ack,  followed  the  strings  of  gray. 

"The  gam  arose  from  where  he'd  sot  on  his 
backbone  and  looked  at  the  drawer. 

222 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

"  We're  not  doin'  any  business  to-day,'  says 
he,  showing  me  my  little  eagle-bird. 

"  'What's  happened  to  the  trade?'  says  I. 

"He  simply  p'inted  to  the  hunk  of  gum 
(which  I  had  most  unforchinit  jammed  ag'in' 
the  drawer). 

"  'My  wildest  fancies  have  got  exceeded,' 
says  he.  'Do  you  want  to  hear  a  weird  and 
wilful  tale  of  woe?' 

"  'Of  course  not,'  I  says. 

"  'All  right,'  says  he.     Til  tell  you.' 

"  'Well,'  says  he,  'here's  the  way  she  come 
up.  I'm  a  lost  one  in  the  wilderness  out  at  a 
telegraph  station.  I  see  where  I  get  my  tal- 
ents buried  in  a  napkin  made  of  sole-leather, 
hence  I  get  handy  with  a  deck  of  cards  in 
front  of  the  lookin'-glass.  My  work  is  so 
good  after  a  while  that  I  lose  my  whole  salary 
to  myself,  and  yet  watchin'  careful  all  the  time 
in  the  lookin'-glass.  I'm  fit  to  handle  the 

223 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

steamboat  trade,  but  I  aims  higher:  I  buy  me 
a  ticket  to  Noo  York  and  hunt  up  a  place 
where  they  hew  to  the  line,  let  the  chips  fall 
where  they  will. 

"'"What's  your  noo  box  o'  tricks?"  says 
the  Murphy  that  run  the  joint. 

"'"Well,"  says  I,  "nothin'  new,  but  the 
good  old  reliable  line.  The  world  is  my 
oyster,  as  Hamlet  says,  and  I've  got  openers." 

"  c  "H'm,"  says  he,  makin'  a  fat  man's  shift 
in  his  chair  and  pushin'  his  seegar  into  the 
other  corner  of  his  face.  "I  want  you  to  un- 
derstand this  is  a  dead-straight  game  run  here, 
my  bucko — yet  you  look  good — s'pose  I've 
come  in  an'  laid  thirty  cents  or  so  on  the 'king, 
coppered.  Lift  the  joker  out  of  that  deck  an' 
le's  see  what  happens." 

"  'He  threw  me  a  pack  and  I  riffled  anH 
boxed  'em. 

"  '  "Why,  you  lose,"  says  I,  much  surprised 
as  the  king  came  out  open  on  the  turn. 

224 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

"  '  "And  not  so  worse,"  says  he.  "Play  on!" 
"  'I  slid  'em  out  of  the  box  to  the  last  card. 
"You  only  lost  your  footin'  once,"  says  he. 
"The  way  you  beat  my  corner  play  was  a  little 
obvious.  Exercise  your  little  finger  till  it's 
soopler.  You  can  handle  a  roll  to-night. 
But  mind  this,"  says  he  as  he  grunted  himself 
on  his  feet,  "this  is  a  dead-straight  house.  If 
anybuddy  ketches  you  bein'  technical,  we 
jump  you,  from  me  to  the  cop  on  watch.  You 
get  five  per  cent." 

"  'Well,  sir,  that  was  the  loveliest  little 
bower  of  rosebuds  you  ever  smelt!  Checks 
was  joolry.  We  didn't  have  change  for 
nothin'  below  a  fifty-dollar  bill.  Our  line 
of  customers  was  these  tur'ble  knowin'  young 
men  of  the  world,  who'd  stood  the  terrific  ex- 
perience of  a  college  careerin'.  They  was  a 
darin'  outfit.  They  was  so  fast  they  couldn't 
help  talk  about  the  pace  they  was  hittin',  and 
what  they  didn't  know  about  the  game  of  faro 

225 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

was  my  business.  It  was  like  bein'  knocked 
down  in  the  street  by  a  strong  man  and  have 
money  pushed  into  your  clothes.  I  did  things 
at  that  table  that  never  happened  before  in  a 
civilized  community.  I  was  so  youthful,  you 
know,  and  it  was  a  constant  problem  to  me 
whether  they'd  stand  for  biting  off  the  corner 
of  a  card  to  make  things  come  my  way. 

"  'I  run  in  rhinecaboos  that  'ud  make  a 
heathen  Scandahonian  farmer  fall  off  his  hay- 
wagon,  but  them  men  of  the  world  simply 
contributed  yallerbacks — oh,  good  old  yaller- 
backs ! — beautiful  to  the  eye ;  soft  to  the  touch ; 
so  encouragin'  to  the  feelin's!  I  reckoned  I'd 
buy  the  durned  old  Western  Union  an'  get 
even  with  the  cuss  who  used  to  pound  it  to  me 
from  up  the  line — Ouch!  vanished  dream! 
Sweet  vision  stuck  to  earth  by  that  con-cussed, 
snappy,  stringy,  bouncy,  mud-colored  foolish 
food  fer  flighty  females  you  see  before  you!' 

"At  this  p'int,"  said  Mr.  Scraggs,  "he  shot 
226 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

his  finger  at  my  gum,  breathin'  hard  an'  glit- 
terin'  his  eyes. 

"  'Yes,  sir!'  says  he.  'There  lies  the  cause 
of  my  roon!  And  such  a  fiddlin',  triflin'  stuff 
to  wreck  a  man!'  He  got  some  of  his  breath 
back.  'You  orter  ask  "How?"  '  says  he,  'and 
I  reply,  "By  contractin'  the  habit"  ' — 'Not  of 
gnawin'  it' — he  adds  hasty,  'but  steppin'  on  it. 
Here  was  I  sittin'  on  sunset  clouds  and  floatin' 
over  beautiful  scenery,  till  there  comes  a  cold 
blast  of  the  winds  of  chance,  and  from  that 
moment  my  path  in  life  was  strewed  with  the 
discard  from  rosy  lips.  For  two  solid  weeks 
I  did  nothin'  but  scuff  my  feet  or  flag  a  shine- 
stand  to  get  rid  of  the  day's  gatherin'  of  gum. 
Them  Eye-talians  used  to  grin  in  a  way  that 
made  me  want  an  open  season  on  furriners,  as 
I  cantered  up  to  'em,  smicky-smacky,  smicky- 
smacky,  trailin'  soft  gray  hairs  behind  me 
like  a  retired  minister's  whiskers. 

<(  'They'd  look  up  at  the  sky  and  make  dago 
227 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

remarks,  whilst  they  curried  my  feet  with  a 
brick,  till  the  cold  sweat  of  mortification 
melted  my  b'iled  collar.  And  once  a  flap- 
doodle actor  goat,  with  a  red,  white  and  blue 
hatband,  got  gay  and  told  me  not  to  use  such 
naughty  words  about  these  tributes  from  the 
mouth  of  beauty.  I  swatted  the  air  where 
he'd  been  when  I  started  to  hit  him  an'  he 
took  me  by  most  of  my  trousers  and  turned  me 
ten  somersaults.  How  was  I  to  know  he  was 
Honest  Mike,  the  Deck  Hand,  who  chucked 
the  villain  over  Brooklyn  Bridge  every  night 
and  Saturday  matinee? 

"  Well,  I'll  cut  it  short.  No  matter  where 
I  fled,  the  fiend  pursued  me.  I  went  to  the 
opery  one  night,  to  get  my  frazzled  nerves 
soothed  by  the  champion  yelpers  of  the  pack. 
For  two  solid  hours  I  lived  untroubled,  not 
even  worried  by  the  show,  as  I  couldn't  un- 
derstand a  word  of  it  and  nobuddy  on  the 
stage  had  complaints  too  deep  to  sing  about; 

228 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

but  comin'  out,  me  enemy  waited  on  the  edge 
of  a  step  for  me  and  I  landed  astride  of  a 
stout  lady's  neck,  beggin'  her  pardon  and 
fightin'  a  half-dozen  men  for  five  minutes. 
When  I  explained,  even  the  stout  lady 
laughed. 

"  'The  boss  at  my  joint  cussed  himself  into 
asthma,  wondering  what  the  sticky  stuff, 
tracked  all  over  his  new  seven-dollar-a-yard 
carpet,  was. 

"  'But  I  ain't  goin'  to  weary  you  with  tri- 
fles. One  day  the  boss  tipped  me  off  that 
there  was  a  bunch  of  alum-eyes  due  that  even- 
in'  ;  he  said  they  was  fellers  that  had  took  the 
college  course,  but  recovered,  and  that  the 
bowlegged  elephant  song  and  dance  that  ex- 
tracted money  from  our  regulars  would  be 
looked  upon  with  reproach  by  the  new-comers. 
I  got  nervous.  Playin'  ag'in'  them  little  first- 
crow  roosters  had  been  bad  practice.  I 
soaked  my  hands  in  warm  water  and  prepared 

229 


TROLLEY.  FOLLY 

as  best  I  could,  but  when  I  saw  that  gang  be- 
fore me  I  knew  why  they  was  called  alum- 
eyes.  They  puckered  my  soul  up,  my  hands 
got  too  wet  with  sweat  for  business — you  know 
your  fingers  has  got  to  be  not  too  dry,  to  slip, 
and  not  too  wet,  to  stick,  if  you're  turnin'  out 
high-grade  work. 

"  Well,  I  was  excited,  yet  it  was  a  reel 
pleasure  to  be  up  against  reel  men. 

"  'I  had  a  habit  of  running  my  fingers  over 
the  rung  of  my  chair,  to  keep  'em  in  right 
shape.  'Twas  a  thing  nobuddy  could  com- 
plain of,  and  the  game  just  held  on  to  its  hat 
and  flew.  How  much  money  you  had  was  the 
limit,  and  to  put  my  little  bank  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  quick,  was  the  idea  of  the 
alum-eyes. 

"  'I  forgot  everythin'.  I  was  fair  hollerin' 
inside  for  joy.  My  buckers  had  a  good  square 
chance  to  catch  me  at  it,  if  they  could,  and  I 

230 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

was  haulin'  money  when — well,  Fortune  had 
patted  me  on  the  back  with  one  hand,  while 
she  got  ready  with  a  black-jack  in  the  other. 
In  my  state  of  feelin'  I  put  a  heel,  a  chewin'- 
gum-covered-heel,  on  the  rung  of  that  chair 
and  took  it  off  again,  without  noticin'.  As 
the  play  stood,  the  outfit  had  me  whipsawed. 
I  drug  my  fingers  over  the  rung  of  that  chair, 
that  chewin'-gum-covered-rung,  without  no- 
ticing; then  I  wiggled  my  fingers  in  a  Chinee 
ketch-as-ketch-c,an  over  the  box  and  raised 
'em  with  a  playin'-card  firmly  stuck  to  each 
finger.  Then  I  noticed,  yes;  and  everybody 
noticed.  Silence  fell  six  foot  deep.  One  of 
them  alum-eyes  says: 

"  *  "That  may  be  magnifercent,  but  it  ain't 
Hoyle." 

"  'And  I  excused  myself  by  ducking  under 
the  table  and  jumping  over  the  banisters. 

"  'Once  on  the  street,  I  hoopled  her  for  the 
231 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

corner.  My  play  was  to  wait  till  the  crowd 
went  out,  and  then  see  the  old  man,  who  had 
a  rubber-band  on  my  roll. 

"  'I  thought  I'd  peek  around  the  corner  un- 
til all  was  clear,  then  rush  the  boss  with  my 
hard-luck  game  of  talk,  extract  a  little  of  the 
juice  of  the  root  of  evil  from  him,  then  fold 
up  my  legs  like  a  jack-rabbit  and  silently  lift 
myself  through  the  breeze,  back  to  the  sage- 
bush — back  to  where  the  prairie-dog  and  the 
owl  and  the  rattlesnake  live  in  harmony  to- 
gether— never  excepting  the  rattlesnake,  so 
long's  there's  plenty  of  young  dogs  and  owls. 

"  'The  game  must  have  busted  when  I  took 
the  fence,  for  here  come  the  bunch  of  alum- 
eyes  right  up  the  street.  I  had  the  curiosity 
to  wait  and  hear  what  they  was  talkin'  about, 
as  I  had  a  corner  to  duck  behind  when  they 
come  close.  Well,  I  waited,  and  didn't  hear 
nothin'  I'd  care  to  write  home  to  mother. 
They  made  me  so  cussed  mad,  I  overstayed  my 

232 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

time.  Just  when  they  got  within  range,  I 
started  to  hop  swiftly  backwards.  But  I 
didn't.  No.  My  feet  had  grew  fast  to  that 
sidewalk.  Seems  the  city  had  been  mending 
the  block  pavement,  as  usual,  and  some 
horney-souled  son  of  toil  had  spilt  a  square 
yard  of  coal-tar  on  the  sidewalk.  Me  to  the 
middle  of  the  coal-tar  district,  of  course — you 
can  chew  coal-tar,  you  know;  I've  done  it. 

"  'So,  as  I  remarked,  I  didn't  gracefully 
side-step.  Exactly  not.  I  gave  one  yank  and 
landed  with  my  knees  up  in  the  air.  Them 
feet  was  riveted  fast,  you  bet,  and  my  joints 
just  had  to  yield  accordin'. 

"  '  "What  is  this  we  have?"  said  one  alum- 
eye. 

"  'There  was  a  gas  lamp  on  the  corner. 
They  knew  me  by  my  face. 

" '  "Are  you  going  to  deal  flagstones  with 
your  feet?"  asks  one  of  them. 

"  ^Let's  pull  down  the  blinds.     It  was  their 
233 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

whirl  at  the  bat.  They  brought  all  the  folks, 
includin'  the  old  man  and  Tommy  the  cop. 

"  'They  yee-hooed  on  my  feet  till  I  had  to 
holler  for  mercy.  Then  they  sat  on  the  curb 
and  rocked  and  hollered  like  the  pack  of  fools 
they  were.  They  tried  to  lift  my  shoulders 
up,  but  found  that  my  coat  had  took  a  violent 
affection  for  the  sidewalk,  too.  Some  of  'em 
didn't  even  try  for  the  curbstone  then.  They 
rolled  around  on  the  sidewalk  and  kicked  their 
legs,  whilst  I  frayed  my  vocal  chords  readin' 
their  customs  and  habits  to  'em. 

"  'But  I  was  in  a  runnin'  noose;  the  harder 
I  cussed  at  'em,  the  worse  they  laughed. 

"'  "Ain't  he  the  slick  one,  though!"  says 
the  old  man,  holdin'  on  to  his  stummick  with 
both  hands.  "Don't  do  nothin'  more  to  him 
for  a  minute,  boys,  or  the  coroner'll  be  sittin' 


on  me." 


"  'Every  time  I  gee-nashed  my  teeth  an' 
tried  to  reach  'em  they  waltzed  on  one  leg  and 

234 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

shrieked.  There  must  'a'  been  nigh  three 
hundred  fools  watchin'  and  havin'  the  time  of 
their  lives.  Little  messenger-boys  was  there, 
the  night-watchmen  took  a  peep,  ladies  with 
a  past  improved  a  shinin'  present,  the  dago 
shoeblacks  heard  the  racket  and  come  runnin' 
up  and  hollered,  "Choon-gum  extract!  Ten 
a  cent  I" 

"  'And  there  I  lay,  flat  on  my  back,  with  my 
knees  in  the  air,  scart  to  move,  because  I 
couldn't  wiggle  a  finger  without  the  crowd 
throwin'  a  fit.  Oh,  murder!  Le's  cut  it! 
They  unlaced  my  shoes  and  snaked  me  out  of 
my  coat,  and  instead  of  bein'  sad  at  them  pa- 
thetical  shoes  and  coat  lying  in  the  coal-tar, 
the  boss  fell  over  sideways  and  the  rest 
was  too  feeble  to  stop  me  as  I  broke  away.  I 
made  that  block  in  two  stocking-footed  leps. 

"  'I  had  a  hundred  or  two  in  my  pants.  I 
bought  three  dollars'  worth  of  coat  and  shoes 
from  a  second-hand  store  for  fifteen  dollars 

235 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

and  a  promise  that  if  anything  happened  I 
wouldn't  mention  the  shop  to  the  police. 
Then  I  come  here,  far  from  the  gadding 
crowds,  far  from  the  lady  with  the  developed 
jaw-swing,  and  I  get — that.' 

"Here,"  said  Mr.  Scraggs,  "he  p'inted  to 
my  chewin'-gum  and  wiped  his  white  brow 
off  with  his  white  handkercher,  and  he  says: 
'Have  we  come  to  this?' 

"I  swallered  hard  and  looked  at  him. 

"  'Have  you  such  a  thing  as  a  plug  of  ter- 
backker  in  your  possession?' 

"  'Yes,'  says  he,  surprised.     'I  have.' 

"  Well,'  says  I,  'ruther  than  to  further  add 
to  your  troubles,  I'll  break  my  word  to  a  lady 
— gimme  that  plug!  We  haven't  come  to  this 
— this  has  come  to  us.' 

"So  I  explained,  and  he  opened  his  stock 
exchange.  I  reckon  he  was  right  about  the 
bad  effects  of  chewin'-gum,  too,  or  maybe 
what's  a  medal  winner  in  N'  York  ain't  art 

236 


THE   FATAL   GUM 

west  of  the  Missouri.  Anyhow,  you  don't 
hear  me  kickin'  about  that  nice  missionary 
young  lady.  If  I  cared  for  joolry,  I'd  be 
wearin'  that  tin-horn's  diamon'  chest  protector 
right  now.  Gum  has  different  effects  on  dif- 
ferent people.  'Twas  fatal  to  his  constitoo- 
shun." 


XI 

BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

THE  QUEST  FOR  QUIET  ON  THE  PART  OF 
THE   HUMAN   CONCERTINA 


t^TT^HE  peaceful  season  has  come  around 
again,"  said  Mr.  Scraggs.  "It  does 
that  every  year.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  have 
a  certain  date  to  be  peaceful  on;  you  prepare 
for  it,  put  all  troublesome  things  away,  and 
wind  up,  as  I  usually  do,  with  four  friends 
trying  to  hold  me  down  because  I  feel  so  light 
in  the  head. 

"Peace  is  one  of  the  finest  things  on  earth, 
but  the  makin'  of  it  will  never  be  confined  to 
one  of  these  here  monopolies.  Listen! 
What  better  could  a  man  do  than  go  into  a 
home  being  tore  wide  open  by  the  dissensions 
and  discussions  of  one  husband  and  one  wife, 

238 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

using  such  domestic  articles  as  flat-irons,  coal- 
scuttles, brooms  and  the  like  of  that,  upon 
each  other,  and  extract  from  the  dust  one 
large,  smooth,  round,  white  hunk  of  peace? 
It  is  nice  to  think  of. 

"I  remember  Long  John.  He  was  a  feller 
built  on  the  concertina  plan.  When  he  sat 
down  in  a  chair  he  didn't  look  like  a  man 
more'n  seven  feet  high,  but  when  he  got  up, 
and  up,  and  more  up,  he  was  that  kind  of  build 
that  made  little  Bill  holler,  the  first  time  he 
saw  the  ack,  'How  much  more  of  you  is  there 
down  cellar?'  And  Bill  said  to  me  on  the 
quiet:  'Old  Gabe  will  have  to  play  an  oncore 
if  he  expects  John  to  get  up  before  the  resur- 
rection is  all  over/ 

"But  John  had  a  disposition  that  couldn't 
be  beat.  He  was  for  peace  all  the  time.  Bits 
of  men  that  wouldn't  more'n  come  up  to  his 
waist  used  to  talk  to  him  as  rough  as  they  liked 

239 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

and  John  wouldn't  give  them  one  word  back. 
He  simply  hit  them  a  slam,  and  then  there  was 
peace,  you  bet  your  life. 

"But  it  was  done  out  of  pure  good-natur. 
'They  got  no  business  to  talk  like  that  to  no- 
body,' says  John,  'and  I  can  correc'  them  with- 
out it  looking  anything  like  a  fight.  Ain't  you 
noticed  that  that  stops  'em  from  being  sassy?' 
It  sure  did,  but  I  lived  in  fear  and  tremblin' 
some  feller  would  be  an  inch  nearer  than  John 
cal'lated  and  would  remain  quiet  for  several 
million  years.  That  would  have  broke  his 
heart. 

"Well,  John  put  in  a  solid  eight  months 
without  ever  pinting  a  foot  toward  town. 
Then  he  collected  and  went  off  for  a  little 
quiet  trip  on  his  own  hook.  He  said  that  no- 
body could  ask  for  a  better  people  than  we 
were,  yet  we  was  kind  of  rough  in  our  ways, 
and  he  wanted  to  see  domestic  felicity,  and  the 
soothing  inflooence  of  Woman.  That  there 

240 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

was  a  strain  in  his  ideas  that  made  him  need 
kind  and  gentle  treatment  oncet  in  so  often. 

"It  ain't,  perhaps,  necessary  for  me  to  say 
that  I  have  been  exposed  to  the  inflooence  of 
seventy  or  eighty  Mrs.  Scraggs  for  enough 
number  of  years  to  heave  a  sigh  on  what  was 
comin'  to  John ;  but  I  never  guessed  how  com- 
plete his  whole  idea  of  the  way  this  universe 
runs  would  be  ruined. 

"Off  goes  Johnny  Boy,  dressed  up  in  his  best 
black  suit,  that  looked  as  if  it  had  been  made 
for  a  statue  of  a  life-sized  giant.  The  sleeves 
hung  down  to  the  middle  of  his  fingers,  the 
pants  rolled  up  six  inches  at  the  bottom,  and, 
as  he  was  a  ga'nt  critter,  there  was  enough 
stuff  in  them  clothes  to  make  it  look  as  if  he 
could  turn  right  around  inside  them  without 
attracting  attention. 

"And  he  come  back. 

"This  is  what  happened.  He  come  into  the 
bull-pen  slower  than  usual.  He  sat  down  on 

241 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

the  bunk,  with  his  face  completely  surrounded 
by  hands,  and  he  never  opened  his  yorp  till 
long  after  we'd  et  our  supper.  Then  he  took 
me  by  the  arm,  and  says,  'Scraggsy,  you  been 
my  friend  for  a  long  time.  Come  out  till  I 
tell  you  something.' 

"I  went  out  and  he  smoked  his  cigareet  for 
another  half-hour  until  I  had  to  say:  'If  you 
have  got  anything  real  to  tell  me,  John,  why 
don't  you  do  it  to-night,  while  we're  sitting  out 
here  so  comfortable  in  the  frost?' 

"Says  he:  'I  got  up  there  all  right.  It  was 
a  nice  town.  There  was  swimming.  There 
was  peace.  There  was  sidewalks,  and  fellers 
wearing  strange  hats.  Everything  was  there, 
and  I  think,'  he  says,  'I  was  more  scared  of  the 
things  I  didn't  know  whether  they  could  hap- 
pen or  not  than  I  was  of  the  things  I  knew 
could  happen. 

"  'My  soul  had  all  the  fuz  roped  off  of  it. 
I  was  positive  I  would  never  more  take  two 

242 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

wraps  around  a  cayuse  with  them  legs  of  mine, 
and  chase  a  skitty  steer  some  more.  "No," 
says  I,  "cow-punching  is  a  lost  art."  A  fel- 
ler gets  all  broke  up  and  tackled  with  rheuma- 
tism before  he's — he's — well,  I  ain't  sixty  yet, 
by  a  durn  sight.  Anyhow,  a  feller  gets  broke 
up  any  time,  and  I  think  of  those  lovely  homes 
and  nice  beds,  and  it  seemed  great. 

"  'The  gent  behind  the  counter  of  the  hotel 
shoved  a  book  and  a  pen  at  me.  I  looked  at 
'em,  wonderin'  if  it  was  an  autograft  album. 
The  little  gals  uster  have  'em  when  I  was 
young,  and  you  put  your  John  Hancock  down 
and  then  something  about  the  rose  is  red  and 
the  violets  blue — I  forget  the  rest. 

"  (I  felt  queer.  It  didn't  seem  like  a  man 
of  my  size  oughter  be  writing  sich  sentiments 
in  a  large  book  with  lots  of  people  looking  on. 

"  'Howsumever,  I  done  it,  and  the  clerk  says 
to  me,  "You  come  from  the  playful  districts, 
just  outlying  the  land  of  fun,  don't  you?"  and 

243 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

he  added  that  too  much  gayety  weren't  a  good 
thing. 

"  'He  came  to  about  ten  words  about  it, 
when  I  took  the  flat  of  my  hand  and  patted 
him  on  the  back  of  his  head.  His  nose  bled 
all  over  the  book,  and  everybody  seemed  to 
think  there  was  a  kick  comin'. 

"  'At  last  they  showed  me  where  I  was 
wrong,  and  instead  of  fussing  around  that 
pesky  hotel,  I  spent  the  night  in  a  calaboose. 
It  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  little  jails  I  ever 
inhabited — airy,  kind  of  roomy,  when  I  lay 
on  the  floor  with  my  head  in  one  corner  and 
my  feet  in  the  other — but,  toward  morning,  I 
got  restless  and  horrible  hungry.  I  hadn't  et 
the  night  before,  forgetting  my  supper  in  the 
fuss  they  made  about  that  autograft  album,  so 
I  shoved  my  bird-cage  door  off  its  hinges  and 
started  for  grub. 

"  'I  come  upon  the  jailer  eating  his  mid- 
night meal — pie,  cake,  eggs — everything.  He 

244 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

looked  at  me  and  reached  for  his  gun.  I 
took  hold  of  him  and  reached  for  his  lunch. 
I  et  that  lunch  and  gave  him  one  iron  dollar, 
handed  him  the  door,  and  said,  "You  keep 
this,  so  you  don't  work  any  racket  on  me 
stealing  your  property;  or,  if  you  like,  I  will 
walk  around  town  with  it  and  you  can  swear 
your  affidavit  that  I  am  still  behind  the  jail 
door — if  you  only  stand  in  front  of  me  and 
look." 

"  'He  was  a  nervous  kind  of  critter  that 
wasn't  fit  to  take  care  of  a  bunch  of  sheep,  let 
alone  running  a  jail.  Couldn't  get  anything 
out  of  him.  He  was  excited,  so  I  spread  them 
bars  on  the  door  apart,  stuck  his  head  in,  let 
them  snap  back  on  his  neck  and  sung  him, 
Come,  Birdie,  Come  and  Live  With  Me! 

"  'He  certainly  was  a  comic-looking  jailer, 
sitting  back  there  with  his  head  peeking 
through  the  door.  The  other  fellers  in  there 
laughed  to  beat  anything,  and  wanted  me  to 

245 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

cut  'em  loose,  but  I  couldn't  do  that — havin' 
come  to  the  town  for  peace  and  quiet. 

"  'Howsumever,  I  recovered  the  goods  they 
took  from  me,  and  fed  the  boys  a  little  out  of 
the  thimbleful  of  high  jumps  I  carried  in  my 
behind  pocket,  until  everybody  was  singing, 
dancing  jigs,  and  so  happy  that  it  did  sure 
look  like  a  little  bird-cage  filled  with  the  mer- 
riest chirpers  that  ever  teetered  on  a  limb. 

"  'Come  daybreak,  I  says  good-by  to  the 
crowd  and  started  out  to  see  the  city.  I 
turned  into  the  business  district,  but  the  stores 
wasn't  open  yet,  so  I  naturally  meandered  any- 
wheres my  fancy  led  me. 

"  'Some  of  them  nice  houses  were  sending 
up  a  curl  of  smoke  for  early  breakfast,  and 
some  of  them  was  tight  shut,  where  the  fellers 
that  led  easy  lives  weren't  up  yet,  but  was 
sleeping  peacefully  in  security,  and  I  felt  over- 
lonesome.  Seemed  like  I  hadn't  got  what  was 
coming  to  me,  that  I  couldn't  have  a  little 

246 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

shack  with  red  roses  on  it,  and  some  nice,  kind 
woman — that  would  think  a  durn  sight  more 
of  me  than  I  was  wuth — to  keep  my  feet  out 
of  the  drafts  for  the  rest  of  my  days. 

"  'It  was  a  purty  sunrise.  It  ketched  holt 
of  the  trees,  it  scattered  red  on  the  window- 
panes.  The  chickens  was  crowin'  and  cack- 
lin'  around.  The  dogs  come  out  and  give  me 
a  wet  wallop  on  the  back  of  my  hand,  or 
chased  after  me  till  I  had  to  send  them  home. 
And  the  cats  was  sitting  up  on  top  of  the  fence- 
posts  waiting  for  a  friendly  scratch  on  the 
back,  and  I  did  feel  my  life  was  wasted. 

"  'So  I  hiked  out  of  that  to  a  hill  I  see  in 
the  distance  to  think  things  over,  and  they  was 
more'n  plenty.  Shaking  my  head  to  myself 
and  thinking  of  what  I  had  lost,  I  happened 
to  look  at  my  watch  and  found  out  I  had  near 
lost  my  lunch,  for  one  thing;  so  I  did  the  turn 
back  to  town  at  a  good,  easy  lope. 

"''Them  young  ladies  that  waited  on  the 
247 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

table  took  care  of  me  in  good  shape.  They 
called  me  "Grandpaw,"  but  it  weren't  in  no 
way  sassy,  and  I  give  'em  a  five-dollar  gold- 
piece  to  get  some  of  the  green,  blue,  red  and 
yeller  flyabout  things  that  gals  like;  and  the 
men  they  was  nice  and  polite  to  me,  too,  till, 
by  and  by,  here  comes  a  committee  of  five  to 
wait  on  me,  and  explain  I  should  oughter  go 
back  to  jail. 

"  'Again  it  looked  as  if  I  should  have  to 
subdue  some  trouble,  but  only  a  minute.  I 
showed  them  that  the  finish  of  their  jail  was 
ineveetible,  if  they  kept  sticking  a  man  in  who 
was  bound  and  determined  to  carry  off  a  hunk 
of  their  jail  every  time  he  wanted  to  come  out 
again;  and,  more'n  that,  would  feel  it  his 
bounden  duty  to  shoot,  and  would  shoot,  and, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  did  shoot  a  hole  through 
the  hat  of  the  most  pushin'  of  the  crowd ;  and 
I  simply  says:  "Instead  of  all  this  fuss  and  fid- 
dle about  nothing  except  them  sentiments  I 

248 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

wrote  in  your  hotel-book,  which  seem  to  dis- 
please you,  let  us  have  a  little  treat." 

"  'It  is  no  use  talking,  there  is  plenty  of  good 
in  everybody.  We  had  that  little  treat,  and 
they  found  out  who  I  was,  and,  by-and-by,  one 
feller  says :  "We  have  got  you  noosed  as  an  in- 
habitant of  this  here  town.  Don't  you  try  to 
break  away,  but  remember  you  have  got  your 
picket-pin  in  your  own  hands.  Turn  yourself 
loose,  and  please  us  all  the  more."  So  that 
day  was  right  pleasant  and  cheerful. 

"  'The  town  paper  come  out  with  a  notice 
that  the  eminent  citizen,  "Long  John,"  alias 
"Texas  Brown,"  alias  "Whipsaw  Brown," 
alias  "Johnny-on-the-seven-spot  Brown,"  had 
been  overtaken  by  the  town  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, and  that  for  the  present  the  map  of  said 
town  contained  him  as  its  most  important 
business  center. 

"  'The  shops  all  shut  up,  and  that  town  and 
me  had  a  fly  through  space  together  that  the 

249 


TROLLEY.  FOLLY, 

citizens  won't  forget  for  several  weeks.  But 
when  I  woke  next  morning,  I  says  to  myself : 
"This  looks  like  the  same  old  thing,  whilst  I 
came  here  hunting  for  peaceful  domestic 
joys." 

"  'So  I  got  up  in  the  cool  of  the  morning 
with  scarcely  a  pain  in  my  head,  and  sails  out 
to  more  retiring  districts. 

"  'I  saw  before  me  the  nicest  little  house  you 
ever  did  see.  There  was  all  kinds  of  posies 
in  front  of  it;  its  fence  was  as  shiny  as  a  set 
of  false  teeth ;  the  grass  was  cut  short  and  tidy. 
It  weren't  painted  too  many  colors.  In  fact, 
it  was  just  right,  and  feelin'  poetic,  I  said 
aloud:  "O  happiness,  here's  where  thou  hast 
planted  thy  stakes.  Inside  this  small  claim, 
with  all  its  tips,  spurs,  angles  and  variations, 
there  sure  runs  a  pasture  of  high-grade,  free 
millin' " — but  I  got  no  further,  for  from  out 
that  shell  that  looked  so  good  to  me  there  come 
a  yell  like  as  if  a  mounting-lion  had  switched 

250 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

his  tail  into  a  wolf-trap.  A  sound  of  breaking 
furniture  come  to  my  ears.  Also,  something 
as  if  a  man  was  cussin'  from  the  very  inside  of 
his  heart  outward,  and  I  gathered  that  a  lady 
was  either  being  beat  by  her  husband,  or  else 
was  beating  her  husband.  Of  course,  in  the 
former  case,  I  was  bound  to  interfere,  not 
knowin'  the  rules  of  married  life. 

"  'I  waved  my  right  foot  in  the  air  and  slip- 
ped the  door  off  its  hinges,  and  there  appeared 
before  me  sich  a  scene  as  I  never  would  sup- 
pose could  appear  before  anybody  in  a  house 
with  posies  in  front  of  it,  and  vines  crawling 
over  it,  and  sich  nice,  clean  winders. 

"  'The  lady,  who  was  a  stout-built  female 
something  under  six  feet,  had  a  little  dark- 
complected  man  under  the  crook  of  her  arm, 
and  whilst  she  spanked  him  with  the  stove-lid 
she  hollered  "Help!"  and  "Murder!"  That 
poor  little — I  mean  to  say,  that  scoundrel — 
had  kicked  over  most  of  the  truck  that  was 

251 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

movable,  the  cat  and  dog  was  gobblin'  what 
would  have  been  breakfast  if  this  unhappy  dis- 
pute hadn't  come  about,  and  they  was  growl- 
ing and  snapping  and  spitting,  too. 

"  'There  weren't  no  peace  about  it. 

"  'Just  as  my  eyes  got  used  to  this,  the  little 
man  made  a  violent  effort,  caught  the  lady  by 
one  foot,  and  pushed.  She  lost  her  balance 
and  fell  agin  the  crockery-box.  That  lost  its 
balance  and  fell  on  both  of  them.  All  I  could 
see  was  two  pair  of  feet.  Nothing  could  be 
more  painful  than  to  see  a  lady  covered  with 
crockery  and  a  large  close*. 

"  'I  got  in  front  to  straighten  things  up 
again,  and  the  gentleman  bit  me  in  the  leg.  I 
called  "Peace!"  to  him,  but  he  didn't  care. 
Then  I  got  the  thing  half-straightened  up — 
you  will  notice  by  this  lump  under  my  right 
ear  where  the  lady  took  me  one  with  the  stove- 
lid. 

"  'I  kept  right  on  with  the  good  work,  and, 
252 


"  Don't  you  dast  touch  my  husband  1  "  says  she.     Page  253 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

although  it  seems  onreasonable  to  the  un- 
tutored, and  yet  absolutely  necessary  under  the 
conditions,  I  put  one  foot  on  the  lady  and 
pulled  as  much  as  I  could  of  the  gent  away 
from  her. 

"  'Something  whizzed  over  my  head  and 
took  my  brand-new  Stetson  right  along  with 
it  into  the  fire  that  the  upset  cook-stove  had 
started.  My  foot  slipped  on  a  piece  of  per- 
tater,  and  I  come  down  right  in  the  middle  of 
domestic  bliss.  The  lady  wrapped  one  hand 
in  my  hair,  and  hit  me  with  the  other  fair  hand 
that  weighed  about  eight  pounds. 

"  *  "Don't  you  dast  touch  my  husband!"  says 
she.  "You  big  brute,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"  c  "Ma'am,"  says  I,  kind  of  jerky — for  the 
little  dark-complected  feller  had  squirmed 
loose  and  was  basting  me  with  a  section  of 
stove-pipe,  accusing  me  of  striking  his  wife — 
"ma'am,"  I  says,  "I  don't  hardly  reckon  you 
are  doing  the  right  thing  by  me.  I  only 

253 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

wanted  to  keep  you  from  harm" — and  them 
was  my  last  words. 

"  'My  good  intentions  had  soured  on  their 
stomachs.  The  pair  of  them  done  more 
things  with  me  in  one-half  minute  than  a 
monkey  could  think  of  in  one-half  a  month. 
Most  of  my  scratches  and  eighty  per  cent,  of 
the  cuts  is  healed.  They  spoiled  that  bed  of 
posies  by  dragging  me  over  them,  and  I  put 
the  fence  a  little  out  of  plumb  by  trying  to  re- 
gain some  of  the  dignity  that  ought  naturally 
to  belong  to  a  man.  That  is  to  say,  I  took  hold 
of  the  fence  and  tried  to  stand  up,  but  me  and 
two  of  the  pickets  hit  the  middle  of  the  road. 
I  carried  those  pickets  with  me  just  because 
I  was  dazed. 

"  'I  turned  up  at  the  hotel  still  holdin'  'em, 
and  all  the  male  citizens  there  assembled  ex- 
pressed their  surprise  in  one  voice.  Them 
nice  waiter-ladies  got  rags  and  things,  and 
patched  me  up  the  best  they  could.  The  hotel 

254 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

man  loaned  me  two  drinks,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
somewhere  in  the  back  part  of  me,  where  the 
real  "Long  John  Brown"  had  took  to  the  brush 
during  the  scrimmage,  there  was  a  stir,  and  by- 
and-by  I  come  to. 

"  'Immejitely  I  whooped  up  them  steps  to 
my  room,  packed  my  grip  and  come  down 
front  again.  I  ain't  braggarty  a  bit  when  I 
say  them  people  was  sorry  to  see  me  go,  and 
coaxed  me  to  try  another  whirl. 

"  'They  almost  had  me,  when  down  the 
street  in  the  distance  here  come  that  fine-built, 
up-standing  female  and  the  little  dark-com- 
plected man,  and  I  heard  the  woman  holler  to 
a  neighbor  that  they  was  out  to  catch  an  eight- 
foot-high,  bow-legged  critter,  with  hair  and 
whiskers  like  a  billy-goat,  that  had  broke  into 
their  house  without  cause  or  reason,  smashed 
all  the  crockery,  knocked  the  stove  into  junk 
and  inflicted  upon  their  persons  some  injuries 
they  could  show,  and  some  they  wouldn't. 

255 


TROLLEY   FOLLY 

"  'I  turned  to  the  crowd  at  the  bar,  and  says, 
"That  is  the  piece  of  beautiful  domestic  life  I 
tried  to  help.  Are  you  fellers  now  goin'  to 
stand  for  me?" — and  them  fellers  put  down 
their  glasses,  and  walked  so  fast  they  got  jab- 
bed in  the  doorway,  lightin'  out  of  that. 

"  'One  lad  says  to  me,  "You  know  I'm  your 
friend,  but — " 

"  *  "Yes,"  I  says,  "I  know  you  are  my  friend, 
and  you  know  that  nothing  could  hurt  my  feel- 
ings worse  than  to  see  a  friend  of  mine  get 
hurt,  so  you  are  putting  out  where  it  ain't  like- 
ly to  happen." 

"  '  "Yes,"  he  says,  kind  of  hurried.  "That's 
it.  That  lady's  run  for  mayor  of  this  town 
twice  without  anybody  asking  her,  or  saying 
anything  about  it.  She's  elected  herself  twice, 
only  casting  one  vote.  We  keep  the  City  Hall 
doors  locked  all  the  time.  I  meant  to  tell  you 
that  the  town  wasn't  really  run.  She  is,  you 

256 


BLESSED  BE  THE  PEACEMAKERS 

might  say,  a  determined  character,"  and,  he 
says,  in  a  greater  hurry  yet,  "Good-by." 

"  'The  barkeeper  had  took  down  cellar,  so 
I  says  "Good-by"  to  my  reflection  in  the  look- 
in'-glass  and  skipped  out  the  back  way,  behind 
barns  and  sheds  and  barrels,  so  that  lady 
couldn't  see  me,  and  hid  in  an  empty  coal-bin 
at  the  station  until  it  come  time  for  my  train, 
and  here  I  be,'  says  John.  'Here  I  be, 
Scraggsy,  old  man;  and,  while  I  ain't  in  no 
way  convinced  but  what  domestic  felicity  is 
the  one  thing  on  earth,  yet  I  wish  I  hadn't  been 
so  biggoty,  and  had  asked  you  a  few  facts  con- 
cerning the  female  species  before  I  started  to 
put  my  notions  into  practice.' 

"  'Coin'  to  stay  quiet  on  the  ranch  now?'  I 
asked  him. 

"He  rolled  a  cigareet  with  determination, 
and  he  answers,  'Mebbe,'  and  the  only  other 
words  I  heard  from  him  was  when  he  stepped 

257 


TROLLEY  FOLLY 

on  a  shoe  in  his  bare  feet  and  come  down  on 
some  place  that  was  sore  from  the  kind  at- 
tentions of  his  lady  friend,  and  he  strangled 
for  three  minutes,  gritting  his  teeth  so  I  could 
hear  'em  squeak  in  the  darkness,  and  then  he 
says: 

"  'Blessed  be  the  peacemakers!' ' 


THE  END 


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